


Cold as it Gets

by MindTheater



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief Gore, Claude is a VERY good boy, Crimson Flower bad ending AU, Dimitri is a good boy, Eventual Happy Ending, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm sorry Byleth, M/M, Slavery themes, Slow Burn, War Prize AU, and Byleth is very sad, darker themes, depiction of a claustrophobic situation, depictions of humiliation and abuse, depictions of ptsd, editing? don't know her, inspired by Cosumosu, soft smut, the Dimileth in this is pure trust me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 84,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindTheater/pseuds/MindTheater
Summary: The empire has fallen. Byleth Eisner's Crest has been torn out of him, and he's been left with the half-crazed King of Faerghus as a war prize. Helpless and exhausted, Byleth struggles to settle into his new life. Dimitri, unable to process the position that has been thrust upon him by the Archbishop, attempts to make Byleth's life a little less humiliating. Through discovering different sides to each other, their uncertainty may turn to fondness.However, not everyone would be pleased to hear that the king has gone soft on his slave. What atrocities will be committed for a heartbroken daughter's revenge? How far will they have to run before they are free?Eternity is cruel... and never long enough.Inspired by Cosumosu's Crimson Flower bad ending AU.QUICK DISCLAIMER: I promise you that the Dimileth in this fic is pure! I know that warning tag is worrying, but that is not Dimitri's doing. Just wanted to put that out there! Enjoy the slow burn! Content warnings are always in the notes.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 178
Kudos: 162





	1. The Unlightened One

**Author's Note:**

> CW for this chapter: mild gore, slavery themes, humiliation
> 
> My first Fire Emblem fanfic! I wrote a lot of this over the second half of the summer, so a good chunk of the first 20 or so chapters have already been written. Everything is planned out, now I just gotta write it! Enjoy this angstfest!

_To the end of the earth I search for your face_

_For the one who laid all of our beauty to waste_

_Threw our hope into hell and our children to the fire_

_I am the one who crawled through the wire_

_I am the one who crawled through the wire…_

_\- Cold as it Gets,_ Patty Griffin

War is a terrible, terrible thing.

Sometimes, no side is completely good, as strong as it may seem as its led by those who others would deem to have the noblest of intentions. A wiser mind could see that even the purest of leaders have some kind of darkness they’re hiding from. No side is completely evil, as infested as it appears by selfish, heartless souls who don’t appear to have any love in their lives. A kind soul could tell that sometimes the ones who fight with the least mercy have the most pain in their hearts.

Red can have dots of blue. Blue can have streaks of red. In time, the longer a war goes on, the messier it gets, the more confused everyone becomes, the less colors will seem as they are. The less you will believe how noble you are… and how evil the other side is.

Goddesses can become helpless.

Churches can become cults.

Emperors can be murdered.

Black, blue, and golden creatures melt away until all has become gray.

Eagles, lions, and deer alike.

Five years ago, Byleth may have believed he could trust everyone at the academy and the monastery. The house leaders, the other professors, the students, the archbishop… But that all changed when Sothis told him to wake up, after the darkness after the battle that had seemed to only last a few moments. Nothing was the same when he saw firsthand what the war had done to Fódlan, to everyone he knew.

Nothing was ever going to be the same.

No more normality…

… Was normal ever enough?

Emperor Edelgard was dead. The attack upon Fhirdiad had gone completely wrong in the blink of an eye, the entire empirical force overtaken in a matter of minutes. The remainder of the Black Eagles were either dead or vanished. More likely dead. Soldiers and parts of them littered the battlefield, red everywhere. Byleth, miraculously alive, had been too frozen in shock to realize soldiers from the Church had taken him by the arms and dragged him away. One lone prisoner amongst a sea of death. A young god hopelessly looking upon all that they could have done.

How did it all go so, so wrong?

The soldiers dragged him into what seemed to be a small temple for the goddess, somewhere in the city. It wasn’t made of carved marble and ornate pillars like Garreg Mach Monastery, nor was it enormous and wide open on the inside. Instead, it was dusty, simple, and suffocating. The city still damaged by war, the wooden benches were scattered, some broken, some leaning against the wall, and the large window at the head of the chapel had been shattered a long time ago. Byleth realized that many more agents of the church were here.

When he looked up, he felt his breath catch in his chest.

Rhea. Or, rather… _Seiros._

No longer did she appear to be the serene and wise woman he knew at the monastery. Now her smile was completely gone, her eyes icy cold as she gazed upon him with the deepest contempt and hatred.

“You know what to do,” she instructed her soldiers.

Without a second thought, the soldiers shoved Byleth onto the stone floor, pushing him onto his back. His limbs were outstretched, and restrained with heavy shackles that were attached to the floor. Byleth grit his teeth and tried to pull on them. It was no use. He couldn’t move. His powers weren’t responding.

Seiros’ shadow fell over him as she stepped closer, her form stopping the flow of sunlight from the shattered window onto the warrior who was one with the progenitor goddess. She grinned at him, and it made him shiver. Her heels clicked as she stepped out of the sunlight, into the shadow of the chapel. As she knelt down, her knees on the floor on either side of Byleth’s legs, he realized there was a knife in her hand.

There were a few brief times Byleth had felt truly helpless. The first time was when he was a small child, and hadn’t yet learned to fight, when bandits came for him and his father at their camp. The last time he can remember was when Soren cast his dark magic at the ruins, banishing both Byleth and Sothis into a dark void. Both times, Byleth had help. His father to protect him… and later, the goddess herself to merge with him.

Now, Byleth was alone.

And he’d never felt more helpless in his life.

Seiros grabbed the front of Byleth’s shirt, cutting into it with her knife. Despite her eyes being freezing cold as they looked into his, a soft smile was on her face, which looked almost familiar. Byleth watched in confusion as she cut away the fabric until part of his upper chest was bare. Her open hand rested delicately on his flesh, right over where his heart was, still silent after all this time, still fused with something she had put there a long, long time ago.

“Don’t worry, Mother,” Seiros said. “I’m going to free you. We’re going to be so happy. Everything will be as it should be. We’ll be rid of this thief that lays before me.”

Byleth’s mouth hung open slightly, realizing what she was about to do.

“W-wait- you can’t-“

Before he could say any more, Seiros put her hand over his mouth and glared at him.

“ _Silence_ ,” she hissed. “I should have done this a long time ago… I’m going to make everything right. I’m going to restore the reign of the goddess.”

The knife sunk into his flesh, deep enough so she could begin… carving.

Byleth’s entire body tensed, his eyes widened, his throat closing up from a choked scream. The slice of a blade against skin and blood and muscle… the sound was sickening. Byleth tried with all his might to pull at the chains holding him down, to shove her off of him, to call with every shred of his soul for Sothis to come forth and _help him_. Anything to stop this scorching pain.

He heard the blade clatter on the floor. Was she finally going to stop?

That’s when she grinned and slipped her fingers into the open wound. Byleth leaned his head back as far as it would go, letting loose a scream of agony into her hand. Her sharp nails squeezed his cheeks. He could feel her other nails, sharper still digging through his chest, pushing his ribs aside to where they should not be, making his own blood splatter all over his chest, her clothes, both their faces. A droplet landed in his wide open eye, making the burning even worse. He screamed again, and again, and again.

He felt her fingers grasp onto something. Her eyes lit up in victory.

“There you are, Mother.”

And Seiros _yanked_ it out.

Byleth released one more desperate scream, his chest wracked with searing pain. After several moments, his voice burning and hoarse, he dared to look up at what she held in her hand. Covered in blood, _his blood_ , the blood of one who shared a mind and soul with the goddess… was a Crest stone.

The Crest of Flames.

Seiros smiled at the treasure in her hand, finally releasing her other hand from his mouth and standing up tall. Byleth lay limp and weak on the floor, drawing in wheezing breaths. He felt every last vestige of strength slip away from his body, his vision starting to grow blurry in front of him, the corners going black.

Seiros was looking to the agents of the church around her, saying something triumphantly as she held the bloodied crest stone up high for all to see. They cheered. In the suffocating stone temple, the sound of their victory was deafening, ringing in Byleth’s ears. He couldn’t fully understand any of the words.

Everything was just… fading away…

Was this what death felt like?

Was it supposed to be this _cold?_

How very tragic, yet anticlimactic, to have it all end like this… What an honor to have become one with the progenitor goddess, to be blessed with her incredible power. What an injustice to have it forcibly put into him at birth, and to have it taken away from him twenty-six years later…

Byleth’s eyes slipped closed, and all went silent.

_I fight a war I may never see won_

_I live only to see you live to regret_

_Everything that you’ve done_

_Everything that you’ve done…_

The first thing Byleth felt was the cold.

His senses slowly began to come back to him. Second thing after the cold, he realized he was lying down somewhere, on his side. Third, he had to be lying atop a damp stone surface. Fourth, he was sore _everywhere_ ; his legs, his head, his very bones, and especially his chest. Why did his chest ache so badly?

A long few minutes passed before he felt strong enough to try to lift his eyelids open. His vision cleared after blinking a few times. He was somewhere dark, and unfamiliar. Dim, cloudy sunlight came in through what seemed to be a barred window, high up.

A dungeon?

He moved his hands close to his chest, gently rubbing the flesh that ached so badly. He thought he heard something metallic clinking against the rough floor, but ignored it. His ears were still ringing. His fingers felt like ice, his gloves clearly gone. His armor was gone, too, leaving just his torn gray shirt, gray trousers, and black boots. His cloak, though he thankfully still wore it, didn’t seem to provide much warmth. Wherever this dungeon was, it was freezing cold.

…Wait. That’s funny. He didn’t remember this area on his skin feeling sort of raised.

His fingers fidgeted with the raised lines on his chest until his hearing began to clear a little. There was metallic clinking, all right. He looked down at his hands to realize in shock that they were in chains, made of dark metal and connected by slender little metal links. He tugged on them, only to choke a little; there was another shackle locked around his neck, with the chain attached to the shackles upon his wrists.

The longer he tried to put together everything that was going on, trying to realize how he got here, the more alight his nerves became. There was some kind of _pounding_ in his blood… No, in his chest. Somewhere in his chest, something was moving.

His eyes widened.

Ignoring how weak and sore he felt, Byleth forced himself to sit up, his hands rushing to his chest to feel it. His heart. His heart was beating. Every panicked beat rattled his bones, terrifying him, making it beat even faster.

_Fuck._

_What the fuck?!_

He dared to look down at his chest, part of it still bare, and he could see his skin twitching up and down lightly with every beat of his heart. Is this what everyone else always felt like? It felt so unnatural… And to make matters worse, now his skin was adorned with an enormous scar. Like a fleshy pink spider living just beneath one layer of skin, a larger raised spot sat directly above his heart, with raised veins stretching out from the crooked oval, towards his sternum, his collarbone, his lower ribs.

Seeing that huge scar, feeling his own heartbeat for the first time, and unable to escape the icy, icy cold he felt in his blood…

…It made him feel sick.

He did manage to sit up against the chilly wall, in a spot that seemed fairly dry enough, his knees tucked up and his hands huddled in front of him. The cold wasn’t going away. He waited in his cell for some hours, unable to tell how much time had truly passed. He didn’t even know how long it had been since he passed out, after Rhea -no, Seiros- took his crest stone from where it lay upon his heart. What with the scar on his chest instead of a bloody gash, it may have been weeks. Though, he may have been healed through magical means. He had no way to know.

The sunlight very slowly shifted slightly from one side of the cell to another, yet he did not move. He tried to keep track of the seconds and minutes with his new heartbeat, not quite used to it yet, but understanding that it slowed when he breathed deeply and tried to be calm. He quickly lost track of how many minutes had passed. How many hours.

…Maybe he’d just be left down here to freeze and rot away.

It might as well be here, in a nondescript dungeon, either weeks or hours after the battle went wrong, after he failed the Black Eagles so terribly, after he let Sothis down by letting her cultish daughter take back the Crest of Flames. It felt strangely perfect for him to be left like this.

Alone. Cold. Empty.

To fuse with Sothis and no longer hear her voice was hard enough to adjust to. To try to bear the weight of an ancient goddess’ incredible power. But for all of it to be gone in such a short time… that was a different story.

He felt so… _weak_. So… _ordinary_.

Recalling the glee in Seiros’ eyes as she tore the stone from his chest, the burning pain as she dug around in his ribcage for it… it was like trying to remember a horrible nightmare. He shuddered, shutting his eyes and leaning his forehead against his knees. Now he understood what his father meant when he wrote in his diary-

“ _I used to think the world of Rhea. Now, I’m terrified of her._ ”

Of course, in a way, Byleth had already resigned himself to his fate. His fear had faded, chipped away by the biting cold, leaving only how tired he was. He’d never been afraid of death. If that’s what fate had in store for him, then he would take it without complaint; better for him to die like this than have to live with the weight of not being able to save his comrades.

The last rays of daylight still remained when he heard footsteps clicking down the hall of the dungeon. He lifted his head, seeing a handful of armored guards approaching the barred door of his cell.

“Eisner,” one of them barked as another one unlocked the door. “On your feet. Let’s go.”

Byleth had barely enough strength to pull himself up. Two of the guards grabbed his arms and pulled him into the hallway. He didn’t struggle, didn’t ask where he was being taken, and didn’t even lift his head. He just watched his footsteps and tried to keep up the pace with the guards dragging him along.

It was when they took him up a large staircase that they stopped at the top of it.

“Here he is, my lady.”

Byleth felt a shiver in his bones. He looked up to see her mint-green eyes, her deceptively soft smile, the traces of blood still underneath her fingernails.

_Seiros._

“Very good. Come, let’s bring him to the throne room,” she said in her gentle, queenly voice.

Throne room?

That was the moment Byleth realized where he was. They were still in Fhirdiad. This was the castle!

Despite all the questions ringing in his brain, he still stayed silent, keeping pace with the guards as they pulled him through the chilly, polished hallways, following ‘Lady Rhea’ as she guided them all the way to the throne room. Like the cathedral at Garreg Mach, it was tall and enormous, full of pillars and tapestries and statues of stone. Byleth did not feel the need to marvel at any of it.

When they were somewhat close to the throne, the guards shoved Byleth to his knees. Already weak and achy, he let out a soft grunt as his knees hit the shiny floor, his chains rattling from the movement. He heard the guards step back, and felt the shadow of Seiros fall over him -again- as one of her hands reached towards his throat. Something was attached to the metal band secured around his neck.

It only took a glance for him to see what it was.

A long black leash, made of leather.

It made Byleth tense to try to imagine what this could possibly mean for him. …

_Probably not an execution._

The guards left, per Seiros’ orders. She tucked a few of her fingers underneath Byleth’s chin, and very gently lifted up his head for him to look her in the eye. She smiled.

“I trust you’ll be on your best behavior,” she said. “You’d be wise to make a good first impression on your new master.”

That took Byleth aback.

_Master?_

A door at the side of the throne room opened up, and someone emerged from the other side. At first, Byleth couldn’t make them out, not until they stepped closer. An imposing figure, in dark armor, with an enormous blue cloak with furs arranged on the collar… That eyepatch, that one icy blue eye, the tightened lips, the shaggy mane of thin blond hair.

_Dimitri._

The king of Faerghus narrowed his eye and scoffed a little as he looked down at Byleth, then looked up at Seiros questioningly. When he spoke, his voice was heavy and gruff, as if he’d aged far longer than five years would do to an ordinary person.

“Lady Rhea, when you said you would be bringing me a gift, this is certainly not what I envisioned. A prisoner of war?”

Seiros smiled. “Consider him a _prize_ of war. He is the last remaining warrior of the empire; a living monument to your victory against the insurrection against the Kingdom.” Standing right next to Byleth, who now knelt directly between her and King Dimitri, Seiros put her hand on the top of Byleth’s head, her thumb stroking his hair. He didn’t look up. “You may do whatever you like with him. He is all yours. I only ask that you let him live, as not only a symbol of your triumph in the war… but as a living example to not rebel against the Church of Seiros.”

Byleth felt sick to his stomach. A _war prize_. A living monument. An example against those who would dare stand against the Church.

A king’s pet.

He swallowed hard as he watched the leash move to the other side; the end being placed into King Dimitri’s open hand. Byleth could hear the squeak of the leather against the king’s glove as he squeezed the leash tight. He could _feel_ that one cold eye looking down upon him.

“Thank you, my lady,” the king said. “This prize of war will not go to waste.”

“Hm, I’m sure he won’t.”

Byleth didn’t pay attention to their final words to each other. He did, however, listen close to the click of her heels as she left the throne room, back the way they had come. There was a strange sort of relief that came with knowing she was gone, and yet, a new fear that came with dreading what was to come.

What sort of life was ahead of him, as a king’s pet?

Dimitri let out a sigh, once they were alone. “Well, come on. Get up,” he ordered, giving the leash a little tug to persuade Byleth to stand. “I’ll take you to my quarters.”

Byleth did manage to stand up on his own, without the help of a wall. He still staggered a little, but mustered enough strength to square his shoulders and take a deep breath as he looked up into the eye of his new master. If someone did not know Dimitri was a king, they would have thought he was a savage warrior, likely to kill anyone around them at any moment. Byleth felt as if one wrong move could be disastrous.

They hadn’t looked at each other this closely for five years.

Dimitri only stared at him for a few moments before turning, starting to head out of the throne room, and tugging Byleth along.

Even Dimitri’s gaze was cold.

 _…When did…_ everything _get so cold?_


	2. Yes, Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Dimitri start to get adjusted to things, and each other.

Dimitri’s ultimate decision was to take the young professor upstairs, to his personal quarters; an enormous, lavish suite that he still hadn’t gotten used to, even after returning to Fhirdiad. The figure behind him was very quiet as they walked. Having not seen him for some years, Dimitri realized that he looked as if he hadn’t aged a day; so the rumors of him having been in a coma for five years were correct.

Though, didn’t he have pale green hair, instead of the blue locks he now had?

He chose not to question it.

It was a little strange to see him like this; in chains, watching the floor as he walked, being led along by a leash, seeming to be completely resigned to his fate as a war prize. He looked a lot smaller than Dimitri remembered. And that scar… was not there before.

The young professor didn’t look up as he was led into the king’s chambers. The king sighed a little, watching as he took a few steps ahead. He let go of the leash, and it swung forwards, lightly hitting the back of the young professor’s leg. He turned his head only slightly.

“Stay here,” the king instructed. “I’ll be back later.”

His new pet said nothing. He only nodded a little.

Dimitri turned around, stepped back into the hall, and shut the door. He felt there was no need to lock it; something in him told him the young professor would stay put.

Byleth.

Yes… that was his name, Dimitri remembered. Byleth Eisner. It was a beautiful name. Dimitri found himself whispering that name to himself as he headed back down the hallway, as if testing how it fit on his lips.

What was he meant to do with that name, now that its owner belonged to him? Byleth was given to him as a pet, an example against any trace of rebellion. Lady Rhea expected the king to humiliate him, to make him ashamed that he ever stood against the Church of Seiros. Perhaps calling him by his name would not be appropriate. No, he decided. He would not address Byleth by his name. He owed Lady Rhea that much, after all she had done for him.

Byleth had sided with Edelgard. That awful woman. So he had to be punished.

Of course, now that the emperor of the Adrestian Empire was dead, the whole empire was in shambles. With the Leicester Alliance reforming itself, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was left to clean up all the political messes that came along with what happens when an empire falls. Barons and lords wanted to claim the now-open territory. Large groups of refugees from the fallen cities were scattered, trying to find new homes within either the Kingdom or the Alliance. The academy at Garreg Mach had to delay an entire year, to arrange for new professors and house leaders to be chosen. Thankfully, the Church of Seiros took care of most of that.

Needless to say, Dimitri had a lot of work to do.

A _lot._

A couple of hours had passed since he started to sift through the mess of paperwork in his huge office. It was getting dark, though with all the dark gray clouds outside, there was no sunset to see beyond the enormous window behind his desk. His head was starting to hurt. In the back of his mind, all he could see was Byleth, and how strange and unusual it was to see him look so…

So…

… small.

Why was that so distracting?

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Dimitri looked up, a little startled.

“Your majesty?”

Dimitri let out a soft sigh. It was just Dedue. “Come in.”

Dedue entered, as carefully as he always did. He was carrying a small tray, with what looked like a steaming decorative cup and small pot on it.

“You’ve been in here for hours,” Dedue said, setting the tray down on a spot on the desk that wasn’t covered by papers. “I brought you some tea to replenish you.”

Dimitri flashed a small, hesitant smile up at his friend to thank him before taking up the cup and sniffing it, right before taking a tentative sip. Chamomile. So Dedue had remembered his favorite after all.

“Your majesty, if I may be so bold…” Dedue started, glancing away and standing up straight.

Dimitri set the cup down and looked up, raising his eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“…I heard what the archbishop gifted to you earlier this evening.”

“The young professor? Ah, yes… What about him?”

Dedue drew in a breath before meeting the king’s gaze again. “If you’ll forgive me, it doesn’t seem right for him to be… er… enslaved.”

“Enslaved is certainly a strong word for it…” Dimitri said quietly, taking another sip of the tea. Oh, if only he could taste it. “But I understand. I am… not sure about the idea myself. It was quite…” He struggled to find the right word. “…unexpected.”

“…Have you considered arranging for him to be… elsewhere?”

“No,” Dimitri quickly answered. “I believe it would be unwise to reject such a gift from the Church.” He hesitated to say any more. “Lady Rhea is… intimidating, to say the least. She expects me to punish him for fighting against the Church by keeping him as my slave.”

“And do you intend to do so, your majesty?”

The king took in a deep breath, to try to let it calm his uncertainty. “I am not sure. For now, I will keep him here, in the castle.” After a moment, a thought occurred to him, and he looked up at Dedue, his eye brightening up a little bit. “Speaking of that… I have a favor to ask. Will you arrange for some dinner to be brought to him? He’s in my quarters at the moment. I’m not sure he’s eaten anything since he was captured.”

Dedue nodded. “Of course, your majesty.”

The hour had become late by the time Dimitri finally decided it was time to retire for the night. Political messes following a war, trying to rule the Kingdom, and keeping regular correspondence with the Church was becoming such a headache. Perhaps taking the time to adjust to the presence of his new pet would be a change of pace that wouldn’t be so stressful. The halls were dark and quiet, as they usually were this time of night.

When he opened the door to his chambers upstairs, his eye scanned the room. Then, his gaze stopped. Byleth was sitting on the plush seat by the window, resting his head against the glass as he looked out at the night sky. His face was still and slack, only interrupted by his occasional blinking. His hands, still chained together, were folded atop one of his legs. He seemed to entirely ignore his leash, which hung slack along his side, the end laying along the ground.

He didn’t seem to notice when Dimitri quietly approached. However, he did notice when Dimitri took up the end of the leash and stood close by him. He looked up at him, almost startled since he hadn’t heard Dimitri come in.

Just as before, they regarded each other coldly.

“Stand up,” Dimitri said, taking a little step back, and moving to unclip his cloak from his shoulders so he could toss it over a nearby chair. “Let me have a better look at you.”

Byleth seemed to tense a little at the idea of being ordered around, but he did as he was told. He glanced away as they stood in front of each other, his index finger fidgeting with the edge of the metal cuff on his other wrist. It was as if he was too fearful or unsure to look his master in the eye.

Dimitri’s eye scanned over him slowly. Without his armor, his weapons, and his soldiers, Byleth certainly seemed much smaller. Much more fragile. So different than his usual stoic nature on the battlefield; the one that had earned him the nickname “the Ashen Demon.” Now that part of his upper chest was revealed, Dimitri could see the massive scar over his heart, its pink tendrils reaching out for the rest of him, like an infection stopped in the middle. The wound must have been particularly messy.

It made Dimitri curious.

“That scar on your chest,” he said, tilting his head to the side and adjusting his grip on the leash. “Where did it come from?”

For a long few moments, Byleth didn’t answer. Still a man of few words, despite everything.

_Don’t you understand your place now, you fool?_

“I asked you a question,” Dimitri hissed, tugging on the leash to let Byleth know he was serious.

Byleth drew in a quick breath, lifting his head and tensing as the manacle around his neck was pulled on. He swallowed, a twinge of fear in his eyes as he finally looked up.

“M-my Crest. It was… taken from me,” he said. It almost sounded like he was trying very hard to keep his voice from trembling.

Dimitri narrowed his brow, trying to consider this as he glanced back down at the scar on Byleth’s chest. He had a sense of what had happened to him, but to hear him say it outright was a little surprising. “You’re saying your Crest manifested within you… physically? Not just in your blood?”

“Yes.”

“So now you’re just as ordinary as everyone else, then?”

That made Byleth tense again. “…Yes.”

“Heh. How ironic. You fought for the woman who wanted to abolish all crests… and now that she’s been defeated, your own Crest is gone.” Dimitri let out a small laugh, mockingly. “She would certainly be proud of you, eh?”

Byleth’s eyes narrowed a little, flashing almost threateningly. “You know better than anyone that it’s not wise to speak ill of the dead.”

The king froze.

_How… how dare you?_

Dimitri growled and gave the leash a sharp _yank_ , making Byleth gasp and stumble forwards, almost losing his balance.

“You don’t know _anything_ about the dead,” Dimitri retorted, through grit teeth. “Don’t presume to know otherwise. And another thing- you don’t get to speak to me that way. I am your king and your _master_ , and you’ll address me as such. Is that clear?”

Now standing closer to Dimitri, Byleth tightened his lips and stared at the floor.

“…Yes, master.”

He actually said it. Dimitri almost felt surprised that he gave up so easy. Had the experience of being defeated in battle, taken prisoner, and given away as a war prize really beaten him down that much? It was almost a little saddening to see him like this.

But he still had to be punished.

He _deserved_ to be humiliated.

….Did he?

The king let out a sigh, shutting his eyes and furrowing his brow. He was just getting confused at this point, and it wasn’t helping his headache at all. He let go of the leash, turning away so he could start to undress from his complex uniform. “The hour is late, and I’m tired,” he said, his voice a little softer than before. “Don’t leave this room. You can sleep on the sofa if you want.”

Byleth said nothing. Quiet as ever. Dimitri did hear his footsteps across the room, towards the plush sofa that sat in front of the fireplace. It only took Dimitri a few minutes to change into some more comfortable clothes; just a pair of thin trousers and a loose white shirt. When he glanced over at the fireplace, he realized that Byleth hadn’t moved from where he sat down on the sofa; his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers fidgeting with the chain connecting his wrists, and his eyes fixed upon the warm fire before him.

Dimitri took a few steps towards him so he could see his face. That still, emotionless face.

“You want to escape, don’t you?” Dimitri asked before he could stop himself.

Byleth took in a breath and slowly let it out, hesitating to answer. Finally, he sat up a little straighter and looked up at his master. In his eyes was the weight of true defeat.

“Where would I go?”

That definitely caught Dimitri off guard. He hadn’t expected that answer, but it was true. There was no apparent reason to try to escape Faerghus. The empire had fallen, Garreg Mach had been fully reclaimed by the Church, his students were gone, his previous allies now his enemies. He had no family left, no home, not even his Crest. Even the goddess hadn’t answered his prayers.

Everything had been taken from him.

What if Dedue was right? What if it really wasn’t right to keep Byleth enslaved like this?

Dimitri’s head ached even more. He stepped away as he reached up to undo the eyepatch ties on the back of his head. “Get some sleep,” he ordered.

While he moved to turn down some of the lights in the room, he glanced over at the sofa. Byleth had slipped his boots off, set them aside, and laid down on the sofa, his eyes shut. He didn’t appear to notice Dimitri, and didn’t seem to be asleep yet.

But he…

…He was trembling.

No… It was shivering.

_He’s cold?_

There was a knit blanket folded over the back of one of the plush chairs nearby the sofa. Dimitri wasn’t sure why, but he took up the blanket, unfolded it, and draped it over Byleth. Maybe that would stop his shivering.

Byleth’s only response to this action was to reach up with one of his hands to grasp the edge of the blanket. But he did seem a little more relaxed.

Stepping back a little, Dimitri briefly glanced at the slowing fire before walking over to his own bed and laying down.

_Goddess willing, let him rest well._

The night passed by in blessed silence… like the calm before a long, steady, uncertain storm.

But just before a chilly dawn arrived to Fhirdiad, Dimitri’s eye snapped open. There was a sound coming from somewhere in his room. It only took him a few moments to remember that he was not alone; a certain prize of war was asleep on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

It was not peaceful sleep.

He realized that the sound was… whimpering.

Dimitri knew that kind of sound of distress well; the sound of a nightmare, and the terror that accompanies it. His own bad dreams had begun to alleviate now that the war was over, now that he had begun his reign as the King of Faerghus, but even he on occasion could hear himself making fearful noises throughout the night. Now, he heard them coming out of a man he had regarded as fearless. Emotionless, perhaps.

Even he was plagued with nightmares now…

Some part of Dimitri wanted to get up and wake him, so his bad dream would end, and he would go back to sleep with a fresh mind. Another part of him said this is what he deserved. For siding with the empire, for going against the Kingdom and the Church, for letting his brethren die.

Did he deserved to be punished with such despair?

Somewhere in the middle of his thoughts, Dimitri realized that the large suite had gone silent again. Somehow or other, Byleth’s nightmare had ended, leaving him to lay still and quiet on the sofa. Grateful that he wouldn’t have to decide what to do after all, Dimitri rolled over onto his other side and shut his eye, letting sleep take him once more.

Byleth did not sleep the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: slavery themes


	3. Not So Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri gets conflicted.

There were a few things Byleth was grateful for at the moment. For one, his master had seemed to decide to feed him well, judging by how a servant had brought him supper the previous night. For another, he was grateful that his new master had seen it fit to cover him with a blanket, even if he’d probably only done so to stop him from shivering. Lastly, nothing he’d done so far had gotten him struck or shouted at. Dimitri didn’t seem the type to do that to him… at least right now.

That threatening look in his icy eye… The way he _growled_ like a beast while he yanked on the leash… It made Byleth feel genuinely frightened of him.

But what was the worst that could happen? A few bruises, getting scolded every now and then, having to be seen by other nobility like this, maybe getting taken advantage of every now and again… not having any freedom anymore…

_It could be worse._

With how much contempt Seiros had for him? She could have done so much worse to him than give him away as a war prize to a half-crazed king. If anything, he was lucky he was alive.

Lucky?

More like cursed.

What right did he have to live when his fellow soldiers, his students, his _friends_ , all lay as marred corpses in the earth? How can he call himself _lucky_ when he was the one who survived, who watched helplessly as they were all killed, who now saw their ghosts _screaming_ at him in his dreams?

Laying on the sofa in front of the fireplace, which had long since gone cold (just like everything else), Byleth didn’t dare shut his eyes again. He feared that he’d see them again… the spirits of those he failed. They’d surrounded him, black blood pouring from their eyes, their mouths, their gaping wounds, as they _begged_ to know why he hadn’t come to save them. Why he’d let the battle go wrong. Why he’d let himself be captured. How he’d managed to stoop so low as to become a king’s filthy concubine.

He didn’t have an answer.

He just laid still, watching the shadows shift in time with the low blue of an approaching dawn, followed by milky sunlight. Another gray, still day, just like before. He could still feel his heartbeat, definitely not used to it yet.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here. Perhaps if he did his best to never anger the king, he’d be treated relatively well, as much as he’d much rather be uncooperative. He might be able to live with some semblance of peace in this castle, once he got adjusted to everything and fell into some kind of routine.

_Alright…_ he decided. _From now on, I’ll try to behave._

It wasn’t for a long while until he finally heard the king stir. All he’d heard from that side of the room was Dimitri’s steady breathing and occasional shifting in his sleep. When he heard soft footsteps approaching him, Byleth kept still, almost feeling like an injured prey hiding from a wild predator.

“You’re awake,” Dimitri said, his voice low and a little bleary from sleep.

He was standing right behind the sofa. Byleth suddenly felt Dimitri’s fingers sifting through his hair, not as one would to a lover, but as a curious master does to their hapless pet. Dimitri let out a low hum, like he was thinking.

“You should bathe today,” he finally said after a few long, stiff moments. “Your hair doesn’t feel clean.”

Byleth drew in a breath when Dimitri finally let go of his hair and stepped away. He sat up, his bones creaking a little from how stiff they were. He remembered cleaning up before preparing for the attack upon Fhirdiad… but he didn’t know how long ago that was at this point. A few days? A week? Who knows how long he was unconscious in that dungeon? In any case, he did feel like he needed a long, hot bath. Maybe it would help him relax a bit.

That was another thing he was grateful for; now that he would be in such constant close proximity to the king, he’d have access to certain luxurious things that he wouldn’t have before. Granted, such things hadn’t been a concern to him before. At least now he had one less thing to worry about.

“I heard you last night,” Dimitri suddenly said, almost startling Byleth.

It took Byleth a moment to think of what to say. “…What did you hear?”

“You were having a bad dream.”

Oh.

Byleth looked away, a couple of his fingers slipping underneath his metal collar to rub at his sore skin. So he’d been making noise during his nightmare after all.

“Was _that woman_ in it?”

That woman? Oh- he must have meant Edelgard, his mortal enemy.

“…Yes.” Byleth briefly shut his eyes, bowing his head a bit. “I’ve never dreamt like that before.” He wasn’t sure why he said that. But those words came out of him all the same.

“They don’t go away, you know. The ghosts who haunt you because of your failures.”

Byleth stiffened a little. He wanted to try to argue with the king; what right did he have to call him a failure when his own war had caused so much death and destruction? But after his reaction last night… it wouldn’t be wise to challenge him with a verbal retaliation. So Byleth decided to stay silent.

He didn’t look up when he heard Dimitri step closer to him, to the other side of the sofa, to face him.

“Perhaps we’re not so different. Perhaps one day you’ll be just as unhinged and bloodthirsty as I was in the war.” He let out a dry little chuckle, something of a smirk forming on his face. “I’d have to lock you up like a beast.”

Byleth felt his fists tightening and his brow narrowing. Before he could stop himself, he looked up at the king and _glared_ at him, his words coming out in almost a hiss-

“I am _nothing_ like you.”

It wasn’t even a moment afterwards that he realized what he’d done. Dimitri’s eye flared in anger, and he raised his hand as if to strike him. Out of fearful instinct, Byleth flinched back, holding up his hands to protect himself.

For several seconds, neither of them moved.

Then, Dimitri finally broke the spell.

All he did was walk away. Byleth took a moment to take in a breath, then dared to open his eyes and look up. Dimitri was only getting dressed. He briefly was able to see the dozens of faded scars all over Dimitri’s back and shoulders as he changed into a different shirt, and it made Byleth’s hand absentmindedly drift over the scar on his own chest.

… _Were_ they so different?

He sat quite tensely, staring at the floor, while Dimitri got himself ready for the day. After several minutes, Byleth heard the door open.

“Stay here,” his master ordered, just like before. But there was no malice in his voice. “I’ll be back later.”

Byleth didn’t feel the need to nod. He knew the king could tell he heard him. With that, the door was shut, leaving Byleth alone again.

Dimitri, on the other hand, could not get Byleth off his mind.

He was an… enigma. Once fearless and strong, now weak and afraid. Once standing tall against his enemies, now at the mercy of them. Once fighting for a cause he believed in, now helpless to those he opposed. It was heartbreaking, almost, to see someone like him fall so low. On the one hand, Dimitri couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. On the other hand, that bitter voice still rang in the back of his head-

_He deserves this._

The day passed by in a slow blur. Dimitri tried to focus on his work, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere, the image of the young professor’s defeated eyes still fresh in his mind. The fear on his face when he flinched at the sight of his master about to strike him. The numbness in his voice when he told Dimitri all he needed to know; he had nothing left.

Dedue did come to check on him at some point that afternoon, but they did not speak of the king’s war prize. It seemed that Dimitri’s mind was still reeling about him, and his vassal seemed to pick up on that. The king needed to sort out his own thoughts about owning an old enemy as a slave; how he would decide to handle this, and what his actions could imply to his subjects. It was something that needed to be more carefully calculated than Dimitri had originally thought, but if it would satisfy the Archbishop and keep any rebellions from the Empire at bay, then so be it.

It started raining just after nightfall, when Dimitri made his way back to his chambers for the night. He did always like the way the rain pattered against window panes; it was strangely soothing.

When he opened the door and stepped inside, Byleth was watching the rain. His arms were crossed atop the plush seat at the window, his chin resting atop his arms, and his legs tucked up beneath him. He almost looked younger than he really was, pensive and daydreamy. He jumped slightly upon hearing the door close, and he lifted his head to look at his master, the chain attached to his neck jingling quietly.

Dimitri wondered what it felt like to constantly have to wear those chains. He imagined it wasn’t very comfortable.

“Have you been sitting there this whole time?” the king asked, flinging his cloak onto the top of the sofa.

Byleth looked back at the window and put his chin back where it had been resting. “It’s not like there’s much else to do in this room.”

“Hm.”

He had a point. Nothing to do, nothing to look forward to, no one to teach, no one to lead. Nothing left but waiting to find out what his master willed, whether it was something to dread or nothing at all.

“My soldiers managed to dig up Aymr from the battlefield graves today,” the king pointed out, remembering the report he received earlier that morning. “I thought you should know.”

Byleth was silent for a moment. “Edelgard’s relic…” he murmured, an air of sadness to his voice.

Dimitri instinctively tensed at the sound of _that woman’s_ name. But, he said nothing.

“…What will you do with it?” Byleth asked.

“The Relic will be sent back to Garreg Mach to be looked after by the Church,” the king responded, stating it as if it was an obvious answer. “Like all the other Relics save for the ones based here in the Kingdom.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “…I imagine my sword was found, too?”

Dimitri turned to look at him while he was unbuttoning his jacket. “What, the Sword of the Creator? No, not yet. Besides, why do you care? Your Crest is gone. You can’t wield it anymore.”

In turn, the other man stood up again and sat in front of the window instead of keeping his arms crossed atop the cushion. “I know that, master…” he said quietly. “I was only curious.”

“Hm.”

Dimitri slipped his jacket off his shoulders and tossed it aside again, observing his pet as he did. Just as before, he looked so tired. The weight of defeat, the knowledge that he’d resigned himself to this fate of no longer having any freedom, of being at the mercy of the king, still hung in his eyes, the light from them completely gone. There it was again- the pang in Dimitri’s heart, pulling at him, trying to convince him that _Byleth did not deserve this._ For but a few moments, Dimitri willed himself to shove that thought away.

“You miss them,” he said, before he could silence himself.

Locks of blue hung over Byleth’s eyes as he bowed his head and nodded a little.

“Do you wish you’d died?”

Byleth lifted his head, confused. “…What?”

“I said… _Do you wish you’d died?_ Do you wish the knights of Seiros claimed your life that day, along with the lives of your Emperor and all your comrades? Instead of the Archbishop taking you prisoner and giving you to me?”

Byleth stared at him, his tongue seemingly tied in knots. Dimitri took a step closer, and he went on.

“If I were to give you the choice of either staying in this castle as my pet for the rest of your days, or letting me kill you now… what would you choose?”

“I…”

Byleth’s lips were only slightly parted, his brow furrowed in confusion. For a long few moments, he said nothing, his eyes still betraying his own sadness and his own conflicted feelings. Dimitri waited for his answer.

But it wasn’t what he expected.

“I… I-I don’t know…”

The king blinked. “You don’t know?”

Byleth shut his eyes, if only to not have to look upon the face of his master. “M-maybe it would have been right if I’d died with the rest of them. Then I wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t be haunting me.” He swallowed hard. “Maybe I don’t have a right to live when I failed them… or maybe I deserve this life _because_ I failed to save them.”

“You don’t know which one is better,” Dimitri clarified.

Byleth finally looked back up, and for a moment he looked younger again. “Despite everything… I don’t think I want to die. Even though I… don’t feel like I should.”

That thought pulled at Dimitri’s gut again, harder this time, making him stare in silence. This poor defeated soul couldn’t even give a definitive answer to whether or not he wanted to be alive anymore. Somehow, Dimitri had felt the same way, long ago, when he was the sole survivor of the attack upon his family. He’d thought the exact same thing— what right did he have to live when he failed to save the ones he loved?

Were he and this war prize really so different after all?

Byleth swallowed hard again. “…Are you going to kill me?”

“No,” Dimitri immediately answered. “No, of course not.” He turned away, hesitating to say any more. “…I think you deserve to live.”

That seemed to surprise him. “…You do? But I… I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t. I never did.”

“Oh.”

Just as Dimitri started to lift his shirt up and off his chest, he heard the quiet jangling of the chains as Byleth stood up again and meekly headed over to the fireplace. Perhaps watching the rain for too long made him shiver from the cold again.

“It’s late,” the king pointed out. “Get some sleep.”

“…Yes, master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no content warnings this time, I think we're good! just had to add some more slow burn for this one.


	4. Books and Battalions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth realizes that Dimitri doesn't want to hurt him. Dimitri realizes that Lady Rhea still wants Byleth to suffer.

It only took a few days for Dimitri to see that his pet was getting very, very bored.

Now having understood that his master didn’t seem to have any intention of hurting him, Byleth had visibly relaxed over the last few days, his fear and apprehension gradually fading away and replaced by… well, nothing. Having not left the king’s personal suite for nearly a week, he quickly fell into the routine of having clean clothes and meals dropped off for him at specific times throughout the day, and seeing his master again at night and in the mornings.

They didn’t always talk. They didn’t seem to have anything to talk about.

On the fifth evening, Dimitri finally noticed that the few books he’d had on one of the shelves in the room were not in their usual place. Instead, he found one of them in Byleth’s hands, as he sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace and slowly read it. The others were neatly piled on the end table next to the sofa. The one in his lap was a book of folk tales from all over Faerghus.

It seemed like the books were all that could occupy Byleth’s hands and mind these days.

However, Dimitri did take note of this.

The following afternoon, he took some time away from all the reports and correspondences in his office to slip into the castle library and grab a handful of volumes off the shelves that he thought his pet might like. He wasn’t quite sure why he was doing this; he just felt the need to.

At the very least, he supposed, his old enemy deserved to not be constantly bored out of his mind.

Or perhaps Dimitri was trying to relieve some of his own guilt. He didn’t quite feel right at the reaction he got from the question he asked the other night; at realizing that Byleth didn’t even know if he wanted to be alive or not. Perhaps neither of them really meant for things to be like this; and perhaps they both understood the weight of ghosts they felt responsible for.

Dimitri couldn’t escape his own ghosts. He felt that Byleth couldn’t escape his own, either. But maybe Dimitri could try to make him feel a little less awful about everything.

Still having much to attend to before retiring for the evening, he sent one of the servants to drop the books off in his chambers. Byleth was pleasantly surprised to see them, and even more surprised to find that this had been arranged by the king himself.

One of the books, a collection of adventure stories, looked quite worn, and had beautiful illustrations on the inside. Byleth flipped through it… and something fell out.

A handwritten note, written just that day. And it read—

“ _This was an old favorite of mine when I was young. When I was stuck attending meetings with my father, I would sneak this along. These stories always made me feel like I wasn’t stuck here in this city. I hope this will alleviate some of your boredom, and perhaps make you feel less cooped up._ ”

Byleth was stunned. What a treasure this book must be to the king.

 _How uncharacteristically thoughtful of him,_ Byleth noted, finding himself holding the book to his chest.

Maybe there was a soft side to the ‘tempest king’ after all.

_Or maybe he’s just starting to go soft on me so I don’t resist when he takes advantage of me._

He stopped himself. What a grim thought. Somehow, this gesture as simple as sending him some books felt genuine; like he was really trying to do something good for his pet, and didn’t just want something from him in return. This wasn’t just keeping him fed or making sure he had clean clothes to wear… this was something that was breathing life into the long hours of his days.

Dimitri did not really seem like the kind of man who would take advantage of him. He certainly didn’t seem entirely… _stable…_ but Byleth somehow knew that Dimitri wouldn’t do… _that._ He didn’t want to ask it outright, and instead was content with these initial impressions.

_I guess it really won’t be so bad here if I try to behave myself._

Now, it had been a week. A pleasant morning arrived in Fhirdiad. While walking along the north halls of the castle and overlooking recent correspondence from the barons and lots of the kingdom (though nothing from Rodrigue, strangely), the king overheard a few maids chatting to themselves as they cleaned the window panes.

“Is it true that the Archbishop has found the Crest of the Goddess?”

“That’s what I heard! They say it was found in one of the Emperor’s closest officers!”

“Oh my, they must surely be dead or imprisoned by now.”

“They’re definitely dead! Who would be able to survive having their Crest ripped out of them?”

The maids were talking about Byleth. Dimitri stood there, stunned, for but a few moments before the maids finally noticed him, curtseying and addressing him with a meek, flustered little “Good morning, your majesty,” before flittering off. He only sighed a little and continued on down the hallway.

He was sure his subjects throughout the city and the Kingdom must have heard the rumors about Byleth Eisner, too; the one who wielded the Sword of the Creator, the one who stood at the side of Emperor Edelgard until the very end. He wondered how many of them knew that the very same man who faced off entire armies of the Kingdom was now a pet to the king of Faerghus.

Well, Byleth hadn’t even left the king’s chambers since he arrived in the castle. It made sense that not a lot of the citizens understood where he was, and what had happened to him.

Just as he turned the corner, he was quite suddenly met with a familiar face, and it nearly made him jump, startled.

“Seteth?” Dimitri blinked, staring at the man before him up and down. “Er… W-what a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to be summoned here, your majesty,” Seteth replied. “Lady Rhea has requested your presence at the western city gates.”

The king raised an eyebrow. “Has something happened?”

“Something _almost_ happened,” said Seteth, always right to business. “The Knights of Seiros tracked down a battalion of Empirical troops attempting to break their way into the city. The rebels have been quelled. They are being questioned now.”

“And why was I not informed of this earlier?”

“This was as early as you could be informed. The Knights only discovered their plans earlier this morning.”

Dimitri nodded. “I see. Then let us waste no time, let us be off.”

“Good. I shall meet you at the carriage.” Just before Seteth turned, he looked a bit grave and uncomfortable for a moment. “Oh, one more thing… Lady Rhea has instructed you to bring… _him_ along with you.”

The king knew exactly who Seteth was referring to. For some reason, the thought of bringing him away from the castle made him feel slightly nauseous. But he swallowed it down.

“Why, does she think he is behind this? He has not left my chambers since over a week ago. He’s been rendered completely harmless.”

Seteth shook his head. “I know he is not to blame for this rebellion. But I am not sure why she has asked this of you. I have only come to relay this information to you.”

“Understood…” Dimitri replied, nodding a little. “I’ll be at the carriage shortly, then.”

His thoughts were reeling as he made his way upstairs, towards his chambers. He was starting to understand why she needed the king to bring his prize to the western gates; after all, Dimitri may have been permitted to do as he liked with Byleth, but Byleth was still only alive to be an _example._ A warning to those who may or have stood against the Church.

Just like always, Byleth was perched on the seat by the window, a book nestled into his lap. He looked up with a start as Dimitri entered.

“Y-you’re here early…” Byleth noted.

Dimitri said nothing for a few moments. He only went up to him and took hold of the end of the leash. Instinctively, Byleth tensed.

“Come,” said the king. “We’re going out.”

Byleth quickly set his book down and obediently stood up, keeping his head bowed and his eyes cast to the floor. He looked nervous, but Dimitri was unsure of what to do about that. Instead of tugging on the leash, he just held onto it, and silently instructed his pet to walk beside him as opposed to behind him.

“Where are we going, m-master?”

“To the western city gates. The Knights of Seiros found a battalion of rebels. I am to question them, along with the Archbishop. And you are to accompany me.”

Byleth tensed up again at the mention of the Archbishop; the woman who took his Crest from him and had him enslaved. He seemed like he wanted to ask why he was supposed to be there, but instead, he elected to stay silent. That would likely be for the best in the end.

A short ride later… and they arrived at the gates. Sure enough, the Archbishop was there with a large squadron of the Knights, and she did not look pleased. Before them was an entire battalion of soldiers from the empire’s armies, knelt on the ground, stripped of their weapons and most of their armor. Most of them were bleeding from somewhere.

Both Dimitri and Byleth were listening close as they stepped out of the carriage and onto the ground.

“I will ask this only one more time… Who ordered you to invade the city, and are there more of you?” the Archbishop hissed.

A large soldier with dark brown hair at the front of the group spoke up. “We are telling the truth. This is all of us. I gave the order, I’m their leader. I arranged this attack. We were only trying to get inside the city to find any survivors from the battle a week ago. There are no more battalions like ours.”

Lady Rhea’s eyes narrowed. “Your quest has been for nothing,” she said, each word a biting hiss. “For there was only one survivor. Your majesty, bring him forward.”

That was Dimitri’s cue. Holding tight to the leash, he stepped closer to the Archbishop, tugging Byleth along. Byleth almost seemed frozen in place, but stumbled just behind Dimitri at the slightest sensation of a tug on his collar. He was getting more uncomfortable by the second, and Dimitri could almost feel his trembling through the leash in his hand. The cold winds of the morning didn’t seem to do anything good, either, blowing right through Byleth like he was an empty young tree in late autumn, skinny and exposed and helpless.

Byleth had only kept his head bowed for a few moments more before Lady Rhea stepped up close to him, grabbed his jaw, and forcibly pulled his face up to make him look at the captured battalion.

The leader’s eyes widened. “ _Professor Eisner?_ You’re alive? We thought you were dead!”

“ _Silence!_ ” Lady Rhea snapped.

Byleth flinched, shutting his eyes for a moment. He was shaking. The king only stood to his other side, holding onto the leash tightly. It only took one icy glance at the captive soldiers to make them cower in fear. They knew they were doomed. When he looked back up at Byleth, he could clearly see that Byleth knew they were doomed, too.

The terror in Byleth’s eyes couldn’t help but rattle Dimitri, just a bit.

“This man was once the Emperor’s teacher and tactician,” the Archbishop said, her voice strong and carrying, as if she was demanding orders. “Now reduced to a slave. He belongs to the king now. I have left this man alive for this very reason— to teach rebels like you a lesson. _This_ is what befalls all those who dare point their blades towards the heavens.” She squeezed Byleth’s cheeks, her fingernails digging into his skin, making him let out a small whimper as she tugged his head forwards again, so the soldiers could see him better. “This is what will become of you. You will become less than _nothing._ ”

One of the younger soldiers in the battalion suddenly spoke up, tears in her eyes. “Please, have mercy! We didn’t want to start up a rebellion!”

“It’s mercy you want, is it?” the Archbishop said. “Do you all wish for salvation?”

A good number of the soldiers meekly agreed.

“Very well…” Lady Rhea said quietly, her voice suddenly gone softer as she roughly let go of Byleth’s face.

He fell to his knees. For a brief moment, he looked up to stare into the eyes of the leader in front of him, finally eye to eye. None of them had any words to say that would be comforting. So all they could do was stare at each other, as if to ask how this could have gone so wrong.

“I had expected that imprisonment or enslavement would suit the lot of you,” the Archbishop went on. “But… you have all asked for mercy. For salvation.”

The girl from before looked up at the Archbishop, a little ray of hope in her eyes. “Y-you’re going to let us go?”

Lady Rhea smiled softly at the young soldier in response.

The king froze, about to object to this notion. Surely she didn’t really mean—

“Commander, kill them all.”

Before Byleth could try to cry out in protest, the Knights moved quickly, drawing their swords. The prisoners looked up in horror. Byleth couldn’t watch; he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away. He heard the soldiers’ screams as swords pierced their flesh, he heard the splatter of blood on the ground, he heard the _thump_ of lifeless bodies or heads landing atop the earth.

Within a few short moments, the captured battalion was all dead.

Dimitri would normally be unfazed at the sight of bloodshed. But to give the order to kill an entire battalion of prisoners, who were clearly not a threat in the slightest and were begging for mercy?

Surely the Church would not dare to condone such a thing.

Then again… the Archbishop had not been acting very… _holy…_ as of late.

It was Lady Rhea who was definitely unfazed. She offered a small smile to the king. “Thank you, your majesty. That is all. My Knights will dispose of the bodies. You may return to your duties at the castle.”

Dimitri gulped. “O-of course. Farewell, Lady Rhea.” He gave the leash a small tug. “Come on, get up.”

Byleth gasped when the leash was pulled, and struggled to get up through his shaking. He too had seen his fair share of death, but this wasn’t the same as being a mercenary or a professor; this was witnessing purposeless killing, and being unable to do anything about it. He was clearly awfully disturbed, the shadow of terror hanging heavily in his gaze as he stared out into nothing. Dimitri quickly ushered him back into the carriage, and off they went back into the city. Upon getting only a little bit further away from Lady Rhea, Byleth seemed visibly eased.

“You’re afraid of her,” Dimitri noted, trying to keep his voice gentle. He didn’t want to frighten Byleth any more.

Byleth looked up, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, his anxious eyes scanning over his master’s face. When he spoke, his voice was weak and shaky.

“And you’re not?”

Dimitri truly did not have an answer.

He left Byleth alone in the royal chambers again once they returned to the castle, around midday. He seemed a bit more relaxed upon getting back into that room, mundane as it had become to him, but Dimitri sensed he was still quite troubled. He had no idea how to make him feel any better. Instead, all he did was quietly shut the door behind him, and shuffled back to his office, trying to regain his composure and gather his thoughts.

Like the first day of having this war prize… Dimitri’s mind drifted back to Byleth again and again.

Of course Byleth was afraid of the Archbishop. He had been the one who’d had the Crest of the Goddess in his blood, he was the one who survived the war out of all of his students and had thus been captured by the Church. And it was Lady Rhea herself who had done the deed… the very one who was the cause for Byleth’s suffering. Because of her, he had to live as an ordinary man, enslaved to his enemy. How he had survived the horrific ordeal of his Crest somehow being torn out of his chest, Dimitri had no idea.

What a tragic miracle of sorts from the goddess herself. A way to punish him, to force him to live without his Crest, and without his friends.

It wasn’t the power of his Crest that Byleth missed, the king realized. It was his beloved students.

Hadn’t he been punished enough?

This was the consequence for standing against the Church of Seiros while holding the power of the progenitor god. He lost _everything._

_“You want to escape, don’t you?”_

_“Where would I go?”_

Despite everything, thinking on it now… Dimitri could not find it in himself to hold any malice for him. Byleth was a tragic shadow of loss and humiliation, and Dimitri realized it was something he did _not_ deserve.

How did it take him this long to realize how _awful_ this whole thing was?

How would he feel if he were in Byleth’s place?

_What am I to do about this?_

_How can I possibly make this better…?_

He knew what to do for now, as a few stiff and somewhat uncertain days passed. He made sure that a servant brought his pet some food a few times a day, arranged for him to have a nice bath every couple days, and had some clean clothes brought for him, just as usual. Every now and then, he ensured that a few new books would be sent to him.

He also made sure to keep an extra copy of the key to Byleth’s chains, tucked into the pocket of his coat at all times.

Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: mild brief gore, mild depiction of an anxiety attack
> 
> I know I'm posting this fic pretty quickly, but like I said, a lot of this is pre-written! And thank you all so much for the kudos and comments, you're wonderful! I hope you enjoy all the future chapters as well!
> 
> And I apologize in advance for all the tears that will be shed. It's gonna get softer soon, but after that, it gets worse before it gets better. Prepare for angst!!!


	5. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Dimitri share their nightmares... and a dance.

After it had been close to two weeks since Byleth had begun his new life as the war prize of a half-crazed king, Byleth had a particularly horrible nightmare.

It was three days following the morning when the Archbishop summoned the king to question the captured empirical battalion, leaving Byleth to witness the Knights killing all of them. Though, this time, in his subconscious, instead of being brought before common soldiers of the empire, he looked up in horror to see that the prisoners were his _students,_ helpless and bleeding and on their knees, entirely defenseless.

Edelgard had looked up in relieved shock, her eyes shiny with tears. “ _Teacher!_ You’re alive? I thought you were dead!”

Byleth tried to lurch forward to her. “Edelgard—“ But he was cut off. There was a sharp tug on his collar. A monster on two legs, covered in fur and with only one red eye blazing down on him, was holding his leash, holding him back. He looked helplessly to his students, who were horrified at the sight of him.

“Dimitri, you _monster!_ ” Ferdinand cried. “Let him go!”

“Rhea is more of a monster than the tempest king will ever be,” Hubert replied coldly, ever the threatening one even in the face of death. But he looked terrified, too. “She has enslaved our dear professor and sentenced us all to death…"

Byleth’s gut lurched. “No… _no!_ Seiros, _don’t do this!_ ”

He didn’t see Lady Rhea anywhere, but he could hear her voice shouting all sorts of threats and angry monologues. The skies were red. The city was burning. The bodies of his students were melting away in the flames, and all he could do was watch in absolute terror. Little by little, all that was left was their clothes, their hair, their bones… and their eyes, piercing through him like arrows.

“Why did you let her kill us, professor?”

“Why won’t you avenge us?”

“You failed, my teacher. _You failed._ ”

Byleth’s eyes stung with tears. “ _Edelgard, I’m sorry-!!_ ” he screamed, repeating it over and over again until his voice was hoarse and until the flames of the city welcomed him—

But something cut through the fire and the roars of the ghosts. Another voice.

“Hey. Hey, wake up.”

And his eyes shot open.

His gaze met that of the king’s, who appeared to be knelt in front of where he lay on the sofa. The fire in front of them had long since gone out, leaving a low chill in the bedroom. Dimitri’s one blue eye looked upon him with something like concern. And for a long few moments, neither of them knew what to do or say.

“Are you… alright?” Dimitri tentatively asked.

Byleth swallowed hard. “Y-yes, master… I’m fine.”

“I heard you scream in your sleep…”

Oh. A little embarrassed, Byleth curled up a bit tighter beneath his blanket, looking away from his master’s gaze. “F-forgive me. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I don’t sleep well, either, anyway.” The king stood back up and looked at the fireplace with a sigh. “You’re cold, aren’t you?”

 _I’m always cold_ , Byleth wanted to answer, but he said nothing.

Dimitri didn’t say a word, but he put a few more pieces of wood in the fireplace and used some spare flint to light it up. He sat down on the floor close to the sofa, and they waited silently for the wood to catch flame. Within a few minutes, the air in the bedroom was warming up again, and Byleth was eased at the sight of the fire. Not like in his dream.

Dimitri sighed again. “I get bad dreams, too,” he said, after several minutes of silence. “Every night, my dead family demands more bodies to satiate their revenge. No matter how much blood I spilled in the war, it’s never enough.” He didn’t seem to know why he was telling Byleth this. He turned his head a little bit to look at him. “Are yours… similar?”

“Not really,” Byleth answered, shaking his head. “They don’t ask for revenge. They ask why I failed them.”

Dimitri’s heart sank, and Byleth could see it in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but Byleth could tell he understood his pain. From one rattled mind to another, each of them knew what the other felt like.

Despite their vastly different ranks, and the fact that they were technically still enemies… there was an odd sort of comfort that came from knowing they were starting to understand each other. If only a little bit.

Almost three weeks now.

The two of them barely spoke, even after that night. They hardly even looked at each other, sometimes only glancing at one another in the mornings or evenings. It was a routine that Byleth had started to fall into; one of silence and monotony, of cold nights and bad dreams, of gray days and lonesome twilights. But again… it could be worse, he kept telling himself. At least he was provided with good meals and decent clothes, and was able to have brief freedom from his chains when he bathed or changed clothes. The marks on his wrists and neck were starting to become constantly sore.

His days were occupied with only a few things to keep his mind busy. Often, he’d read from the selection of books that the king routinely provided to him. Usually it was just some history, politics, biographies, an occasional amalgamation of legends and old folk tales, but at least it was something to do.

Strangely, he often found himself drawn to that well-loved book of adventures that Dimitri had left a note for him inside of. Even though the book was clearly meant for children, he did quite like it.

When he wasn’t reading, he could be found staring out one of the windows, or perched on the sofa with his knees tucked up to his chest, only moving off of it to set another piece of wood on the fire in front of him.

Anything to try to warm up.

He felt like he was getting colder with every unfamiliar beat of his heart.

But, the longer the days went on, the more confused he got about the behavior of the king.

It seemed like Dimitri was… actively avoiding him. As if he thought that any attempt to interact with him would only anger both of them, leading to either Byleth’s leash being yanked on or a bruise forming on his face. Byleth had begun to believe that Dimitri genuinely did not want to harm him, so he instead elected to ignore him, almost entirely.

Even in enslavement, Byleth was still alone.

_Better than being abused, I guess._

Still… why?

Why was the king going to the trouble of making sure his _slave_ of all things had good meals and clean clothes and good books? Why wasn’t he taking advantage of the fact that he now had an enemy in his possession, who he could do anything he liked to? Why wasn’t he taking out the remainder of his warlike rage on him, punishing him for the smallest of things, if only to gratify his hunger for violence?

It’s not like Byleth _wanted_ to be treated horribly. If anything, he was grateful that his master had decided to take a more peaceful approach to this new situation. But he was still left confused, a little lost even.

_Why am I being treated… nicely?_

_Doesn’t he think I deserve to be humiliated?_

~

Nine days had passed now. After having an onslaught of rain for the past four days, it had finally stopped, leaving a thin, patchy overcast by that afternoon. Byleth had almost started to think there might be a little sunshine out today, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He watched the inner courtyard intently, which he could see clearly from the high-up windows of the king’s chambers. At least it wasn’t obscured by fog like the days before. Now he could see a few songbirds fluttering above the trees, and he could not help but envy their blissful freedom.

When the door to the chambers opened, he turned, expecting to see another maid bringing him some more clean clothes, as it happened every other day.

He sat up straight with a start.

It wasn’t a maid at all… but the king. Looking right at him.

Dimitri took up the end of the leash, making Byleth gulp a little as he obediently stood up. But there was no chilly malice in the king’s eyes; in fact, he just looked a little tired. To Byleth’s surprise, Dimitri gently put his hand on Byleth’s shoulder.

“Come with me,” he said as he started to guide his pet towards the door, holding onto the leash but making no move to tug on it. “I… I want to show you around the castle.”

_What?_

Before he could stop himself, Byleth found himself asking- “…Why?”

Dimitri blinked. “Well… this is your home now, isn’t it?”

Byleth looked away, more confused than ever. “Y-yes, master… I suppose it is.” He still wasn’t used to calling him ‘master.’ It was like he had to force that word out of his mouth.

“You don’t have to call me that,” Dimitri suddenly said. “You can just refer to me as your king. That will do.”

“Oh… A-are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Now come.”

“Y-yes, my king…”

This was the only time Byleth had stepped out of the king’s chambers since the morning at the west city gates. When he entered the chambers that first evening in the castle, he stayed there, per his master’s orders. They stood in the hallway for a moment, and Byleth glanced around, as if waiting for a servant or two to appear. He almost wished they wouldn’t be around at all, if only so he wouldn’t feel so… humiliated. Not like before.

“The castle staff won’t bother us,” the king said, as if predicting Byleth’s thoughts. “It’ll just be us two. …In case you were worried.”

Byleth found himself stiffening a little, more from just the confusion at his own treatment. “I wasn’t worried, my king,” he said quietly.

“Oh. Well, no matter… Come along.”

Byleth complied. He didn’t feel the need to keep his head down, and instead found himself relaxing just a little bit as the king led him along the hallways, so they could head down the grand staircase. Just as he promised, there were no servants or even guards to be seen; sometimes Byleth would catch a glimpse of them in a doorway, but they would quickly scurry away. It was clear that the king had taken extra measures to ensure that Byleth wouldn’t have to be seen like this.

He didn’t want him to feel humiliated. And he referred to the castle as his _home._

Just what was the king trying to do?

Now that Byleth had a better chance to see the castle in its entirety, it dawned on him how _massive_ it was. He was sure that if he was ever able to freely wander it, he’d surely find himself lost in its labyrinthine halls. He did his best to pay attention as Dimitri showed him around, from the entry hall to the balcony overlooking the main gate, to the hallways of glass that overlooked the massive river leading to the sea, to the library and observatory and ballroom. Since he’d been to the throne room before, it seemed that Dimitri did not see the need to show him that.

When they entered the ballroom, a wondrous display of marble, murals, blue and gold tapestries, and glittering chandeliers, Byleth realized that the ballroom was being prepared for something. There were rows of chairs lining parts of the walls, tables set up along the sides, and delicate, silvery curtains draped between pillars.

“I’m sure you noticed how it’s been dressed up in here,” said the king. “It’s a bit late, but there’s going to be a grand ball held here tomorrow night, to properly celebrate the end of the war and the restoration of Faerghus.”

Byleth glanced over at the raised dais at one end of the ballroom, bordered by beautiful blue drapes, where an ornate throne sat, perfectly fit for a king. He gulped, imagining himself having to stand beside the throne; one lone enslaved war prize amongst a sea of joyous nobles.

“I see… And I suppose I’m expected to be at your side at this ball?”

For a moment, Dimitri did not answer.

“I’m not expecting you to,” he said softly. He turned to him, an almost wistful look in his eye. “Do you remember the grand ball we had years ago? At Garreg Mach?”

Byleth blinked. He hadn’t expected the king to bring up that memory. But he nodded. “Yes, my king. I remember.”

“I recall that you left the festivities early after only a few dances… It seems I still remember that you have never been one for parties much. Furthermore, given your current position… I anticipated that you would prefer not to attend.”

Byleth lifted his eyebrow a little. “You’re… letting me choose?”

“Yes. Is that strange to you?”

“No, my king… It’s just unexpected.”

Dimitri briefly flashed a small smile at him. “Hm. I understand. So, what is your decision?”

“I… I’d like to opt out of attending. If that is alright.”

“Very well.” Suddenly, he offered Byleth a little smile, and for a brief moment, he looked like his old self; a young idealistic prince, an innocent schoolboy. “Then, seeing as how you won’t be at this ball… why don’t we have a dance?”

“What?” Byleth was taken aback by that, more so than anything else Dimitri had said that day. “You mean… right here? Right now?”

“Of course, why not? It’s only the two of us in here.”

Byleth _loved_ the idea of just one little dance, even if it was with this man that he barely understood. But he was so confused, so weighed down with his conflicting thoughts and theories that he couldn’t quite think straight. First his master didn’t want him to call him master, then he said the castle was going to be his home too even though this was the place where he was enslaved, then he gave him the choice of attending this royal ball or not, and now he offered him to dance, of all things? He just couldn’t understand it.

_‘Why not,’ indeed…_

Dimitri’s smile faded, and he seemed to pick up on Byleth’s apprehension. “Would you rather not?”

“No, no, I’d love to, but… I have… never been the best at dancing.”

“I recall you had a lovely waltz with Claude and several of your own students that night.”

“Well, Claude was leading, I was barely keeping up.” A beat, then, Byleth lifted up his hands to remind Dimitri what he wore. “Not only that, but… I wasn’t in chains then.”

Dimitri thought on this for a moment. “Well,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “That can be fixed easily.” And he pulled out a small key. Without another word and not even letting Byleth really respond, he used the key to unlock the chains from Byleth’s wrists and neck, then pulling them away and letting them fall with a clatter onto the floor. The noise echoed throughout the entire ballroom. “There. That’s better.”

Still confused but visibly relieved, Byleth looked into Dimitri’s eyes. There was no lie on his face. This seemed genuine.

_Well, what have I got to lose?_

“…I suppose one dance wouldn’t hurt.”

Delighted, Dimitri’s smile returned to his face, far brighter than before. He happily took Byleth’s hand, then rested his other hand on Byleth’s hip. His hands were surprisingly gentle, and it made Byleth have to take a moment to collect himself. With Dimitri leading, even in the silence of the ballroom save for their footsteps, they began a slow little waltz.

“You remember the steps, don’t you?” the king asked.

“I think so. Like this?”

“Yes… just like this.” Dimitri paused for a moment. “Do you remember the White Heron Cup?”

“Of course I do. Dorothea did wonderfully.”

Dimitri chuckled. “True, but I was a close second. I haven’t gotten rusty, have I?”

“Well, in your defense, you’ve been here in your castle since our time at the Academy. I was in a coma at the bottom of a ravine for five years.”

That made Dimitri laugh. “You have a point. I don’t blame you for taking a few missteps.”

Byleth had to glance down at his footwork a few times, but he felt like he was getting the hang of it again. “Really? Even if I— _oh!_ ”

There was one little slick spot on the ballroom floor that made him slip. Dimitri tensed up, attempting to swoop Byleth back into balance. But it didn’t work, and both of them lost their balance entirely. With a small cry of surprise, gravity took over, and Byleth fell onto his back with a _thud._ Dimitri was right over him, managing to catch himself with his hands on the floor before his broad chest crashed into the smaller man underneath him.

They stared.

Dimitri blinked. “Er… A-are you… alright?”

Was that just all the golden lighting in this room, or was there the slightest trace of pink on Dimitri’s cheeks? And when did Byleth’s face get so warm? He swallowed hard, finding his tongue in knots.

“I… I’m… fine.”

For a brief moment, Byleth glanced down the length of Dimitri’s body, from his strong shoulders down to his firm but slender waist, all hidden beneath opulent uniforms. From this angle, he looked much stronger than before, like he could pluck Byleth right into his arms like he weighed next to nothing…

He snapped his gaze back up to Dimitri’s face. What was he thinking??

“Maybe we, uh…” Dimitri started with an awkward little laugh. “Maybe we should leave our dance at that.”

Byleth nodded. “…I agree.”

Dimitri pulled him up by his hand, then almost reluctantly put the chains back on Byleth, where they belonged. Byleth had gotten so used to them by that point that it felt strange to not be wearing them, but he did take note of the fact that the king seemed to trust him not to act on this brief freedom when he was granted it.

That trust was… comforting.

When the two of them left the ballroom, brushing off the awkwardness from a few moments ago, they stepped into the inner courtyard. Byleth was finally able to get a better look, instead of gazing longingly at them from the windows upstairs. There were stone paths leading throughout, and there were so many trees and other plants around that they almost seemed to be gardens. Obscured by fog and the shadow of trees, Byleth hadn’t noticed how lush the courtyard was. It was… lovely. There was even a little thin sunlight coming through the clouds.

This place almost reminded him of the greenhouse at Garreg Mach. Except, the courtyard felt more open. He finally felt like he could breathe easy.

“Do you like it?” Dimitri asked him softly.

Byleth nodded.

“I’m glad… This has always been one of my favorite places on the castle grounds, even when I was a child.”

A soft breeze rustled the trees, and Byleth closed his eyes to let the wind ruffle his hair. For a brief moment, he imagined he was a little sparrow, flying wherever the north winds guided him. It was a pleasant little fantasy, even when it went away after he opened his eyes.

“The weather is starting to get warmer…” the king said, almost wistfully. “Perhaps when summer comes, we can come out here more often.”

Byleth exhaled a little bit. It was a nice thought. “I… I would like that, my king.”

By now, evening had come. Byleth hadn’t even realized how much time had passed. They headed back inside the castle hallways, which were starting to be lit up by the lanterns. When they stepped back into the king’s chambers upstairs, Byleth found his shoulders slumping a little bit. Back to the monotony.

“Oh, I almost forgot… One more thing,” said Dimitri.

Byleth turned his head to look, and saw Dimitri reaching into the pocket of his jacket to pull out the key again. Then he reached down and gently took up one of Byleth’s wrists. Byleth took in a breath with a start, realizing what Dimitri was doing again. This wasn't just for a dance. He unlocked the metal cuffs, then unlocked the collar, letting them fall onto the carpet, along with the leather leash. Byleth stared up at Dimitri, a bit bewildered, as one of his hands reached up to rub at the back of his neck.

“There’s no need for you to wear those while you’re in this room,” said the king.

Byleth blinked. “I only have to wear them when I’m outside your chambers? …You trust that I won’t try to escape?”

“Yes, I do.” Dimitri pocketed the key again and turned towards the door. “I’ll have a servant bring you supper before it gets late. So… stay here. I’ll-“

“You’ll be back later?” Byleth finished, flashing the smallest of smiles at him.

Dimitri blinked at him, surprised. Then, he actually chuckled a bit. “That’s right.” He opened the door and was about to step out, but turned back to him for a moment. “…You should smile more often. It suits you nicely.”

Byleth’s eyes widened a little. Did his master actually… compliment him?

“T-thank you, my king.”

The king smiled at him once more before heading back into the hallway and shutting the door, once again leaving Byleth alone.

Somehow… Byleth didn’t feel so cold anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: short depiction of night terrors. 
> 
> That's it for this one! We're getting SOFT now!!!!


	6. The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Did I ever tell you how cute you are, professor?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: adult content! Soft smut! 
> 
> I think I tagged it all right? Just in case I didn't, skip this chapter if you're under 18!

The night of the ball arrived quickly. As agreed, Byleth didn’t go. At dusk, the king changed into an opulent uniform of black, white, blue, and gold, the complexity and stiffness of which didn’t seem to suit Dimitri. However, the elegant cloak with fur lining along the top did return his silhouette to a familiar shape. Byleth watched from where he usually liked to sit; right in the window seat. Dimitri even wore an embroidered eyepatch, and his hair was partially combed back.

Once he was all ready, Dimitri turned to his pet. “How do I look?”

Byleth hadn’t expected to be asked that. But, he smiled a little.

“Like a king.”

Dimitri smiled proudly. “Heh. I thought you might say that.” He turned, as if to leave, but hesitated, as he usually did. “You’ll be alright here for tonight? I likely won’t return until it’s quite late.”

“Yes, my king. I’ll be fine.”

“Very well. I must be off, then. There’s noble guests to greet and dances to be had.”

With that, the king was off to the royal ball downstairs. Now knowing he’d be alone for some hours tonight, Byleth decided to indulge himself with a longer bath than usual, after he’d finished his supper. But, he was left with his confusing thoughts all over again.

Why would the king let his slave choose as to whether or not to go to a party? Maybe he didn’t want to go to the trouble of clarifying to his guests that the young man in chains at his side was a gift from the Archbishop. Maybe he thought pulling him around all night would just be a bother, leaving him unable to dance with any of the beautiful young noblewomen at the ball. Maybe he knew he’d just stick out like a sore thumb. Still, whatever the reason, Byleth was grateful he was given the choice. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to have a good time at the ball no matter what, even with Dimitri’s company.

At least the hot water helped him relax, so he could think clearly.

After drying off, he changed into a gray tunic and comfortable trousers that cut off just past the knees, then headed out of the washroom attached to the main suite so he could take up the book he’d been reading earlier that afternoon and sit by the fireplace with it. It wasn’t that late at the moment, so he could read a little longer before tucking himself under the blankets on the sofa, as usual, to sleep.

He found himself lost within the pages, rereading some of the history of Faerghus. It felt good to have this kind of refresher, knowing he’d be living here for… quite some time. He didn’t even realize how much time had passed that evening.

The door very suddenly opened. Byleth almost jumped, startled.

When he turned his head to look, he had to blink a few times. There was Dimitri, looking thoroughly tired from the ball… and a bit tipsy.

He let out a few slightly slurred chuckles, mumbling something about how much more fun royal parties are when everyone’s had a few drinks and loosened up. A bright blush was on his cheeks, his footsteps heavy. Byleth set the book aside and stood up, taking a few wary steps towards him. He’d never seen Dimitri intoxicated, even though it was only a little bit, and wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“…Are you alright, my king?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Dimitri giggled, waving his hand nonchalantly as he leaned over, his other hand perched on his knee. “Just might have-“ He paused to let out a little _hic._ “M-might have had one too many.”

“I think you’re right. Maybe you should… get some rest?”

“Guh. Maybe.”

Dimitri looked up at him, his mouth hanging open a little. He almost looked in awe.

“Did… did I ever tell you how _cute_ you are?”

Byleth’s eyebrows went right up. “Er… no?”

“W-well- well, I _should._ You’re _cute_ , professor. Downright _handsome_ , damn it. I had such a stupid crush on you when we - _hic_ \- we were at the academy. If only you’d t-taught for the Blue Lions- then I could’ve - _hic-_ seen your stupid pretty face all the time.”

Byleth had no idea what to say. He felt his face warming up. Was he… blushing?

Well, both of them were blushing now.

“Um… thank you?”

Dimitri giggled again, standing up straight so he could toss his cloak away from his shoulders, as if it was weighing him down. “Golly, you’re awfully pretty when you smile…”

He reached forward and gently grasped Byleth’s shoulders, and Byleth was very suddenly aware of how much taller Dimitri was than himself. But somehow, he knew he wasn’t in any danger. Dimitri’s eye sparkled a little as he looked right into Byleth’s eyes.

“C-can you smile again…?”

The request was so innocent that Byleth couldn’t help but oblige, a delicate little smile forming on his face. “Yes, my king.”

The king let out a little sigh, somehow both very relieved and very pleased.

“May I kiss you?”

Byleth’s eyes widened. “…Kiss me?”

“Y-yes. Is- is that alright, Byleth…?”

 _He called me by name!_ _And he wants to kiss me!_

“…How sober are you right now?” Byleth asked, his face warming up even more, a gentle pink flush on his cheeks.

“Sober enough to think clearly. And I’m just tipsy enough to be brave enough to tell you how beautiful I think you are.”

Byleth blushed even harder at that. He found his hands drifting up to Dimitri’s chest, resting atop the silk sash draped across him, his eyes fixed upon Dimitri’s pleading eye. He wouldn’t disagree to the notion that the king was indeed handsome, despite their positions; Dimitri as his master, and Byleth as his slave. But Dimitri had not harmed him. In fact, the king had actively done his best to make Byleth’s new life a little less humiliating, to try to make him feel somewhat at home in this castle, to make him less lonely. Why he had decided to do so, to go to the trouble of _asking permission to kiss him, of all things_ , Byleth still had no clue.

He was grateful, however. And he felt _safe_.

He smiled again. “Then… yes, my king. You can kiss me.”

A joyous little smile spread across Dimitri’s face. “Oh- I- I’m glad!”

One of his hands reached up to briefly cup Byleth’s cheek before moving to hold the back of his head. Both of them shut their eyes as Dimitri leaned forward, tilted his head to the side, and ever so gently pressed his lips against Byleth’s. It was like he was testing the waters. When Byleth didn’t make any move to oppose his advance, Dimitri tilted his head a little more and went in for a bit of a deeper kiss. Byleth didn’t hesitate to lean into it, even letting out a soft little moan as he did.

Dimitri pulled back a little bit, but didn’t open his eye. “Y-your lips are so soft, Byleth…”

“So are yours…” Byleth smirked a little. “But they taste like wine.”

A chuckle gently rattled Dimitri’s shoulders. “Heh. My apologies. I hope it’s not - _hic-_ unpleasant.”

“It’s not. Don’t worry.” Byleth found one of his fingers tracing along the center of Dimitri’s suit, toying with one of the buttons absentmindedly. “Don’t stop…” he said softly.

Dimitri grinned as one of his arms reached around the small of Byleth’s back, their chests pressing up against one another. “As my pet so wishes.”

And Dimitri kissed him again, more hungrily this time, with less hesitation. Byleth let out another soft moan, opening his mouth a little wider to let him in. And Dimitri took that invitation most happily, as his hand slid from the back of Byleth’s head to the back of his neck. Dimitri moaned a little, too.

They pulled back for a few moments, almost out of breath. A little trail of saliva hung between their lips.

Dimitri had a bit of a feverish look in his eyes, his face more flushed than ever. “Oh… w-who knew you were such a good kisser…?”

Byleth smiled. “I could say the same about you.”

“U-um…” Dimitri glanced away, flustered.

“What is it?”

“…May I undress you?”

_Oh._

That had certainly caught Byleth by surprise, definitely not like before. He didn’t realize he had such a stunned look in his eyes, not until Dimitri let out a nervous laugh.

“Was that too forward…?” he asked. He almost sounded a little shy.

“Oh- um… N-no, not at all…” Byleth found himself smiling again, reaching up to wrap his arms around Dimitri’s neck. “You may… but on one condition.”

“W-what condition?”

“That I get to undress _you._ ”

Dimitri bit down on his lip in excitement, realizing that Byleth was agreeing to what he intended to do. “Yes! I would like that ever so much…”

He already tossed away his gloves before taking Byleth’s hands in his and starting to back up towards the bed, a very excited look in his eye. Byleth sat down on the edge of it, propping himself up with his arms, as Dimitri leaned over him and kissed him again. His lips slid down to his jaw, close to his ear, then down to his neck. He let out a soft sigh, his warm breath tickling Byleth’s nerves. Byleth’s hands were already undoing the front of Dimitri’s uniform, and Dimitri’s fingers began to toy with the bottom hem of Byleth’s shirt. His hand slipped underneath the light fabric and began to caress his side, his hand soon sliding up to his chest.

“Mmh…”

Dimitri broke away from the kiss, opening his eye to blink blearily at Byleth. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, no. I’m alright.” Byleth looked right at him, then glanced away. “Forgive me… I’ve never done this before.”

“Never?” Dimitri sounded surprised.

“No. Never. Not like this.”

“Oh. So you’ve been with women before?”

Byleth nodded. “Yes… A few times.”

Dimitri chuckled. “So you’re not - _hic_ \- completely oblivious.”

“You could put it that way… I’ve just n-never been with a man before.”

Dimitri gave him a little smile. “Then allow me to show you how it goes…”

And he leaned into kiss him again, as both his hands began to lift the fabric of Byleth’s shirt off of him. Byleth, in turn, had managed to get Dimitri’s suit top open, revealing the thin undershirt and already starting to unbutton it. Dimitri’s hand held onto Byleth’s chest, close to his scar, as gently as if he was afraid of breaking him at the slightest touch. As weak and cold as Byleth felt on an almost daily basis now… he knew Dimitri would not hurt him. He let out a soft moan, his hands resting upon Dimitri’s chest while Dimitri slipped out of his suit jacket and shirt.

Byleth felt himself being lifted up a little, then realized he was being laid back on the bed. His hands rested at the sides of Dimitri’s face, feeling the warmth of his cheeks, keeping their lips locked together. He felt Dimitri’s hands rest on his hips, as Dimitri crouched over him. His index finger slipped underneath the hem of Byleth’s trousers.

“Will you allow me to touch you…?” Dimitri asked shyly.

“Yes… Go ahead.”

Dimitri smiled, pleased at his approval. He leaned back a little bit so he could tug Byleth’s trousers off of him, tossing them aside once they were completely off. Byleth blushed, clearly not used to this, his hand resting nearby his lips. Dimitri stared down at him, his mouth hanging open a little in awe.

“You’re… so beautiful,” Dimitri gasped.

Byleth looked up. “Even with this huge, ugly scar on my chest…?”

The king grinned a little, looking a little amused, as he sat back on his heels and gestured to the cross-shaped scar on his own chest. “I mean… I’ve got one, too.”

Byleth couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Heh, you’re right.”

“ _Gah!_ ” Dimitri exclaimed, a stupid grin spreading over his face. “Even your _laugh_ is cute! Goddess be damned, I am the kingdom’s greatest fool for not - _hic-_ not making you laugh before…”

Dimitri was still laughing while Byleth reached up to grasp the top of Dimitri’s pants and started to pull them down. Not stopping him, Dimitri leaned over Byleth again, one of his hands tracing down from the center of Byleth’s chest, lightly brushing one of the tendrils of his scar, down along his stomach, then finally cupping him between his legs. Byleth shut his eyes and let out a very soft gasp.

Dimitri’s other hand helped Byleth take off his own trousers. Now both of them were vulnerable and bare in front of each other, no walls between them, no coldness or animosity. Just a shy, sort of innocent desire. Just to ease into it, Dimitri leaned down again and nuzzled into the side of Byleth’s neck, breathing softly onto his skin. Byleth leaned his head back and let out a soft sigh, followed by a little moan when he felt Dimitri’s hand begin to stroke him. His own hands reached up to hold Dimitri’s back.

“Oh-“

“Is this alright?”

“Yes…”

Dimitri hummed softly in response, his hand beginning to pick up the pace. Byleth gasped again. His back started to arch, his cheeks flushing all over again, and one of his knees lifting up to nudge Dimitri’s side.

“Guh… C-can you make that noise again…?”

Byleth let himself gasp again, his fingers clinging to Dimitri’s back a little tighter. In turn, Dimitri lightly bit at the skin of Byleth’s neck, letting out a low growl of desire.

“Good boy,” he purred.

_Whoa._

_I didn’t know it could feel like this…_

After a few moments, Dimitri pulled back, resting back on his heels again. Byleth watched, curious, as Dimitri brought his hand up and spat on it, then started to coat his own shaft in his own saliva. Byleth blinked a few times.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly.

“W-well, I… I want to… go inside you.” Dimitri looked up to meet Byleth’s gaze. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I-inside me?”

Dimitri flashed a smile at him, and he almost looked a little nervous. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this before… It’ll feel good. I promise.”

For a few moments, Byleth considered this. Then, ultimately, he nodded.

“Alright, my king… I trust you.”

“Okay, good…”

Dimitri hooked his hands underneath Byleth’s thighs, lifting them up a little and gently spreading them apart. In anticipation, and still a little twitchy, Byleth grasped the sheets in his fist, watching as Dimitri lifted up his hips.

“Try to relax…” Dimitri breathed.

Byleth leaned his head back and did his best to not tense up at all. First, Dimitri took one of his own slippery fingers and carefully entered him, slow so as to let Byleth get used to the sensation. He wasn’t used to it, but he took a few moments to adjust. Then, another finger. The sensation was instantly heightened, and Byleth gasped a little. Dimitri slid his fingers in and out, delicately so as not to hurt him, only a few times before slipping them out again.

“That’s it…” Dimitri purred. “Keep relaxed just like that…”

Both his hands held onto Byleth’s thighs now. As Dimitri carefully carefully and slowly entered him, he let out a soft groan, and Byleth found himself letting out another moan. He wasn’t quite used to this sensation yet… but Dimitri had been right. It felt… good. Better than just two fingers.

“ _Ohh…_ ”

Dimitri’s eye shut as he leaned forward again, one of his arms scooping underneath Byleth’s back. “Nngh…”

Byleth’s hands reached up to grasp Dimitri’s shoulders, holding tight as if to ground himself. He felt Dimitri ease himself in, then partially out. In, then back out. In, back out.

“Guh… D-does it hurt?”

Byleth shook his head. “No… I’m n-not hurt- ah…”

Dimitri nodded, exhaling. He leaned down and started to nuzzle Byleth’s upper chest, up towards his collarbone, close to his neck, while starting to pick up the pace a little bit. Byleth bit down on his lip as his nails lightly dug into Dimitri’s back. He was quickly getting overwhelmed. Both of them were.

“By- ah- Byleth…”

“Hhh… Nn-!”

Byleth felt his back lift off the sheets. Dimitri was picking him up, his strong arms lifting him up so their chests were pressed against one another. A spidery scar against a crossed scar. Byleth shut his eyes and let out a soft whimper of pleasure, feeling Dimitri’s lips and breath still all over his neck, his arms around his back. The sensation was growing stronger. And as Dimitri increased his pace a little more, in and out, in and out, both of them felt like they were getting close.

Byleth’s mouth hung open as a series of high-pitched gasps escaped him. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hips twitching.

“Oh- _oh-!!_ ”

He let out a sharp cry as he released, so hard his legs were trembling. Moments later, before the heat could subside, Dimitri tensed, twitching, and groaned as he slipped out, his own release immediately following.

Within a few long moments, both of them were resting against each other, breathing heavily as the last of the heat within them died down. Dimitri sighed against Byleth’s chest, one hand gently stroking his back. Byleth, with his arms still wrapped around Dimitri’s neck, smiled against his shoulder.

Dimitri hiccuped again. Both of them laughed softly.

“You’re still cute…” Dimitri murmured.

Byleth could tell the king was getting very sleepy. They ended up laying down on the bed together, with Dimitri not letting go. For a moment, Byleth tried to move to slip out of the bed, thinking he was overstepping his boundary, given his position…

“No,” Dimitri whispered, looking at him earnestly. “Stay.”

Byleth blinked at him, bewildered. The king wanted him to sleep in the same bed with him? It seemed almost unlike him, almost improper. But the look in his eyes was so honest that Byleth couldn’t help but smile softly at him.

“As my king so wishes,” he whispered back, laying back down and pulling the warm bedcovers over them both.

Dimitri let out a happy little hum and held Byleth a bit closer in his arms, resting quite comfortably. Byleth laid his hand atop Dimitri’s chest, not quite closing his eyes yet. As the minutes passed, Dimitri soon drifted off to sleep, his face slack and his chest slowly rising and falling, and Byleth found his finger gently tracing along some of the scars on Dimitri’s chest. Well, there were scars all over him, from past battles over the last five years.

In time, Byleth felt his own eyes drift shut.

Eased by the quiet and each other’s company, the king and his pet slept quite soundly throughout the night.

~

Byleth was the first to wake.

It was the late morning, judging by how the sunlight fell over the floor, from where it could peek in between the curtains. They must have both slept quite heavily. The king still slept soundly, not even stirring, and when Byleth looked up at him, he realized how peaceful he looked. Byleth’s arm was still draped over Dimitri’s chest, their legs tangled together beneath the covers.

As he let his eyes drift shut again, a thought occurred to him.

_I don’t feel cold. Not one bit._

It was the first time he felt completely and comfortably warm since before his crest was taken… Oh goodness, how long had it been now? Had it really only been a couple of weeks?

Whether time had seemed to slow down because of the monotonous routine of his days, or because of his confusion about how his master was treating him, Byleth didn’t know. What he did know, however, was that if he had to be a king’s pet… he was glad it was Dimitri. Dimitri had treated him like a real companion, like they were old friends, and not at all like Byleth was a defeated enemy who was entirely at his mercy. Dimitri had chosen to treat him with kindness and even a little shyness, not to take advantage of his power over him.

Just like the night before, Byleth realized he was actually starting to feel comfortable around Dimitri. Safe, even.

After a few more minutes, Byleth felt Dimitri start to stir. He rolled over, draping his arm over Byleth’s shoulders. “Hm… good morning,” he murmured softly.

Byleth just let out a soft hum in response.

“Are you awake?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Perhaps we should get up. It’s late in the morning.”

Byleth wanted to protest, claiming how warm Dimitri was, but he chose not to as Dimitri slid away from his arms and pushed himself up. Byleth, still wrapped up in the bed covers, watched sleepily as Dimitri started to get himself dressed. At one point, he turned to look at Byleth while he tied a new eyepatch onto his head.

Dimitri smiled a bit as he buttoned up a clean shirt. “Hm… We should share a bed more often. I haven’t slept so soundly in a long time.”

“…Neither have I.”

“No bad dreams?”

“No bad dreams.”

“Oh. Well then, it’s settled,” the king said, looking quite pleased. “You won’t have to sleep on that sofa in front of the fire anymore.”

Byleth blinked. He found himself so surprised that he sat up and looked Dimitri in the eye. “You mean… I get to sleep here _every night?_ ”

“Why, yes. Would that be a problem?”

“N-not at all, my king…”

Dimitri smiled again. “Good, I’m glad to hear that.” As he slipped on an elegant blue suit jacket and moved towards the door, he glanced back at his pet. “You might want to put some clothes on. Wouldn’t want to spook the poor maid.” He chuckled a bit.

A soft little laugh escaped from Byleth as he loosely held onto his knees. “Alright. …You’ll be back later?”

“Yes, this evening. …I’ll see you then, Byleth.”

Byleth nodded a little, flashing a smile at him. With that, Dimitri was gone.


	7. What If That's Okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri dreads the future council meetings. Byleth and Dimitri talk about their regrets.

A few gentle days went by.

Every night, Dimitri would hold Byleth in his arms, listening to each other’s soft heartbeats, comforted by the warmth of each other’s skin. Dimitri couldn’t even remember how long it had been since he’d shared a bed with someone so regularly. Still, they had begun to find peace in each other’s presence. As far as he could tell, neither he nor Byleth had any nightmares while they slept together, and that alone was a blessing.

Ever since the night of the ball, when the two of them really slept together for the first time, Dimitri had begun to feel differently about Byleth. The way he smiled at him, the way his eyes lit up when Dimitri came back to his chambers in the evening, the way he looked so peaceful while he was sleeping beside him…

…It made Dimitri feel happy. He didn’t understand why.

What they were to each other, he didn’t know. He figured it was too early to try to put a label on it. But he did know that he loved seeing Byleth smile.

Several days had passed since the celebration ball at the castle. There was a routine council meeting to be had at the city center, where a great many of the leaders from both the Kingdom and the Church would come to discuss current relations, as well as updates on how the restorations from the war were faring. All except for Rodrigue, of course, who was focusing on restoring his own territory on his own. True, it had already been a few long weeks since the official end of the war. But, with the war having lasted five years, there was much to tend to, and many messes to clean up.

Sure enough, Lady Rhea was at said meeting. The Archbishop had to be there, of course.

It was the first time Dimitri had seen her since the day at the western gates of Fhirdiad. Now, knowing that it had been her hands that tore Byleth’s crest from his ribcage, her orders being the reason why Byleth had been taken prisoner in the first place, leading to him being given away to the king of Faerghus, and being used as an example to further threaten and terrify potential rebels…

Dimitri couldn’t help but feel a little afraid of her.

Throughout the whole meeting, her pale green eyes were fixed upon him, as if trying to read his thoughts. It made him nervous, so he tried his best not to look at her. There was something in her eyes that she was not showing to most people; something sinister.

Something Byleth may have seen while her knife was carving into his chest.

The very idea of it made Dimitri almost shudder.

The king was quite relieved when the meeting was over. Mostly just the lords and baronsand priests reviewing each other’s work in the post-war relief efforts throughout the kingdom, and a few overheard rumors of what was happening in the wide territory that was once the Adrestian Empire. When he had finished shaking hands with his subordinates, he was about to rush off to his carriage, to get back to his castle, where he didn’t feel so nervous.

“Your majesty,” said the soft voice of Lady Rhea.

Dimitri stopped and turned to look at her. Her smile was wise and gentle; quite motherly.

“I was hoping I might have a word with you before you go,” she said, taking a couple steps closer towards him.

“C-certainly, my lady. Was there something we’d overlooked during the meeting?”

“I’m afraid so, your majesty. It appears there is a certain symbol you neglected to bring with you this afternoon.”

Dimitri blinked. “Symbol, my lady?”

“Certainly. The symbol of your victory against the Empire. Our living example to not stand against the Church of Seiros. Surely you haven’t had him shut away all this time and forgotten about him?”

That made Dimitri tense. She was talking about _Byleth._

“N-no, my lady,” he managed to say, hoping she couldn’t see how his fist trembled a little. “I have not forgotten. I had simply thought it would not be appropriate to bring a prisoner of war to a routine meeting.”

Lady Rhea smiled sweetly. “Nonsense, your highness. Did you not hear how the barons and lords whispered about you under their breath? The things they said to undermine your authority? If they see you with a war prize at your side, they will truly know not to challenge you. That your strength in rule is absolute and unshakeable. Furthermore, the more your people see your prize, the more they will honor you to see you keeping your enemy on a short leash.”

It only took a moment for Dimitri to realize she expected him to bring Byleth to these meetings from now on. Imagining him standing beside his chair at the council table, his chains and his leash visible for all to see… Oh, he could hardly bear the thought.

But what would Lady Rhea do if he refused?

He didn’t dare imagine that far.

“…I see,” the king said. “…You are right. He’ll be brought to the meetings from now on.”

Pleased at this, the Archbishop smiled. “Very well, your majesty. I’ll let you return home now. Good day.”

Dimitri muttered a similar goodbye to her before heading out of the city center, back to his carriage that waited to take him back to the castle. As soon as he sat down inside it, he realized his heart was pounding.

What if Lady Rhea were to find out that he had not been treating Byleth like she expected him to? Like he was a companion to an old friend, and not a slave to his enemy?

…What if she took Byleth away?

Dimitri felt nauseous at the idea. He quickly shoved away the thought, shutting his eyes and trying to take a deep breath. Byleth wasn’t going anywhere, he reassured himself. Lady Rhea wouldn’t possibly do anything that drastic.

_Would she?_

The ride home seemed to take far too long. Time became a blur of panicked heartbeats and tensed muscles all over, as Dimitri clambered out of the carriage, stepped back into the castle, and rushed upstairs. The door to his chambers seemed too far away, shut for too long, that he almost worried that Byleth would not be there when he entered.

_Please be there. Don’t be gone. I need you._

He almost _shoved_ the door open.

Byleth sat up with a start from where he was at the window, a little startled at Dimitri’s sudden entrance. He looked up just in time to be engulfed by the king’s arms, the fur of his cloak tickling his cheek as he was held tight. For a few moments, neither of them moved.

“…My king?” Byleth murmured softly. “Is something wrong?”

Dimitri shook his head. “No, no.”

“Then why are you holding me as if you’re afraid of losing me?” Byleth’s voice sounded almost teasing.

Dimitri let out a sigh as he pulled back, finding his hand resting on the side of Byleth’s face. “L-Lady Rhea was at the council meeting…”

That’s when a little fear rose in Byleth’s eyes. “…What did she say?”

“She told me to bring you to the future meetings. As an example to the other nobles.”

Byleth considered this. At the very idea, he swallowed hard, clearly doing his best to hide his unrest about this. “And… are you going to do so?”

“I’m afraid I have no choice,” Dimitri said, his thumb gently running along a stray strand of Byleth’s hair. “I’m not sure what she might do if I refuse.”

Taking in a deep breath, Byleth bowed his head a little and slowly let it out. “Alright.”

Dimitri tried to smile at him a little, to reassure him. “I-it won’t be so bad,” he said softly. “All you have to do is stand at my side for a little while. You won’t even have to speak unless someone asks you something.”

“…And I suppose it won’t be a good idea to let anyone at these meetings know that you’ve been treating me with kindness?” Byleth interjected, a strange sort of pleading look in his eyes.

The king sighed. “Yes… It’s better if they don’t know.”

That was when Byleth reached up and gently laid his hands on Dimitri’s arms, drawing him in closer so he could rest his head against Dimitri’s chest, shutting his eyes and sighing softly. There were no more words that needed to be said. Dimitri found himself wrapping his arms over him again, not holding as tight as before.

The meetings wouldn’t be so bad.

Right?

The following day, Dimitri took Byleth out of the room, to the library downstairs. Evidently, Byleth had finished reading the only books that were available to him in the king’s chambers, so Dimitri elected to have him pick out a few new ones instead of Dimitri just having one of the servants bring up a few more for him. Byleth wore his restraints, of course, since they were elsewhere in the castle, but after not having had to wear them for quite some time, he didn’t seem to mind them much. With no one else in the expansive library but the two of them, Byleth perused the shelves for some time, while Dimitri patiently waited beside the window. He ended up bringing back three decently sized volumes, and seemed quite content with his choices.

Night came quickly. The king and his pet found themselves on the balcony attached to the king’s chambers, an elegant half-circle that fully overlooked the courtyard, much better than the windows did. The moon wasn’t out tonight, but the stars were, as was a cool breeze, promising the coming of warmer summer days.

Byleth’s eyes were closed as his elbows rested on the stone railing, his head lifted up so he could feel the breeze. He looked so peaceful.

“I don’t know why I didn’t come out here before,” he said after a while. “It’s nice.”

“Granted, the door is usually hidden behind a curtain,” Dimitri replied with a smile.

Byleth flashed a small smile, but it quickly went away. When his eyes opened again, he stared out at the city, the lights of which could somewhat be visible from the balcony. His hands gently held his upper arms, as if he was a little cold.

“What is it?” Dimitri asked softly, moving a little closer to him.

For a long moment, Byleth said nothing.

“…What was the point of it all?”

Dimitri blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… about the war.” Byleth fidgeted with one of his fingers, staring down at the courtyard below. “The whole time, I could never quite figure out how I felt about it. When I woke up after being asleep for five years… it had all become such a mess. And now I don’t even remember what it was all for. Crests? The freedom of the oppressed? Uncovering the secrets of the Church?”

He sighed, a heavy weight in his eyes.

“Now that it’s all over, I’m just… I’m just tired.”

Dimitri had to think on this for a few long moments. “…Did you believe in that wo- …Edelgard’s cause?”

“I think so. At some point, anyway. It just made sense to me. Nothing else did. It was the only right path I felt I could take, as messy as I knew it would be. She knew it, too.”

Taking in a breath, Dimitri imitated Byleth’s position, leaning his elbows against the railing, close to him. Their hands were almost touching.

“And do you regret taking that path?” he asked.

Byleth once again hesitated to answer. “Even if I had known what was going to happen to me? …Yeah. Maybe. Maybe I do. Maybe I would have changed it, given the chance to turn back the hands of time far enough.”

Dimitri hadn’t expected that answer. So he pressed on. “Why do you say that?”

“Because of all the people who now lay dead…” Byleth whispered, his eyes shadowed over in the dim light. “My students… My… _friends._ All those soldiers. Even Edelgard. They were so young. They had so many years ahead of them to live, and this pointless war took that all away from them.” He bowed his head. “I failed them.”

Somehow, hearing that made Dimitri’s heart ache a little, and he couldn’t help but recall the first evening Byleth had spent at the castle, and the bitter words they’d exchanged about the dead. He looked away. “I see.”

“What would you have changed?”

The question was so sudden that Dimitri’s shoulders straightened a little, and he looked right at Byleth. “Sorry?”

“If you had the chance to go back in time and try things again,” Byleth explained, “what would you have done differently?”

Dimitri really had to think about that one. He looked out at the night sky, staring at the stars, as if asking them for guidance. “…I’m not sure. Perhaps when you first arrived at Garreg Mach Monastery, I would have tried harder to convince you to teach the Blue Lions instead of the Black Eagles.”

He heard Byleth let out a soft chuckle. “What, just so you could see my pretty face more often?” he teased, calling back to that historic night about a week ago.

Dimitri couldn’t help but laugh, too. “Not just that.” His smile quickly faded. “…Perhaps I would have been able to spare you the pain of having lost your comrades. Not to be blunt, but, you would likely not be in the position you are now if you’d aligned yourself with the winning side.”

Byleth let out a sigh again. “I guess you’re right.”

“…I do understand how you feel, you know. To be haunted by those you could not save.”

Byleth seemed a little eased to hear that. “I know.” Finally, he looked up at Dimitri, some kind of pleading look in his eyes. “…My king, why have you been treating me nicely? Why are you not treating me as I am, as your enemy and your war prize? Why are you acting as if you’ve… forgiven me?”

Stunned at the suddenly desperate words, for a few long moments, Dimitri just stared at him. When there was still no answer, Byleth glanced down, his brow furrowed in cold frustration.

“…Can I even forgive myself?”

Dimitri’s heart ached even more. Had Byleth been wrestling with these thoughts ever since Dimitri had chosen to begin treating him better? Ever since the war ended? The idea was… saddening, to say the least.

For a long while, he was unsure of the words he needed to say.

“…Maybe the war really was for nothing,” he finally said, his voice quite soft. “Maybe we can never appease those we have lost… Maybe sometimes the things we do can never truly be atoned for.”

Turning away, Byleth let out a soft breath, almost disappointed.

But Dimitri wasn’t done yet.

“But… what if that’s okay?”

That made Byleth turn towards him and stare.

“What if the only thing that will let the dead rest is just… trying to live? What if the way to atonement is just to live as your best self, to try to be someone better than you were before?”

It looked like Byleth was letting these thoughts settle in his mind. Slowly, that uncertain look in his eyes went away, replaced by the gentlest of smiles, and a warm gaze.

“I like that idea,” he said.

Dimitri smiled right back. He found himself wrapping part of his cloak over Byleth, so both of them were wrapped up. But his arm lingered around Byleth’s arms, holding him against his side. Byleth leaned against Dimitri’s shoulder, clearly comforted by the warmth shared from Dimitri’s body and cloak.

“In any case, ghosts or no ghosts…” Dimitri said, squeezing Byleth’s shoulders a little. “…I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad, too, my king.”

Dimitri paused. “Byleth… I want you to call me by name from now on. At least when it’s just the two of us.”

“A-are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He could almost feel Byleth smiling against him, snuggling a little closer into his side. “Very well… Dimitri.”

Dimitri’s heart fluttered a little at the sound of Byleth’s voice saying his name. It felt… right. Like this is how it should have always been… the two of them, sharing warmth, calling each other by their names, looking up at the starlit sky together. And for a few moments, the world felt perfectly aligned, in its silent simplicity, in the way two haunted souls found an impossible sort of peace within each other.

“Are you still cold?” Dimitri asked after a little while.

“A little,” Byleth admitted. “I’m always cold these days…”

“Come on. Let’s go inside where it’s warm,” Dimitri said, guiding Byleth back into the bedroom.

He shut the balcony doors behind them once they stepped back inside, cutting off the night breeze before it could get any colder. The fire in the fireplace wasn’t going to die down anytime soon, so Dimitri sat the both of them down on the sofa in front of it, keeping Byleth gently pressed against his side.

“I’ve started to wonder if I’m always going to feel like this,” Byleth said softly. “Ever since my crest was taken, I… I can’t help but always feel so… _empty._ And cold…”

Dimitri’s heart sunk at that idea. He had no idea that a person could feel so horribly different In their body after going through something like that. It was a horrifying thought, to be left with an enormous frozen chasm within you.

He sighed a little as he held Byleth a bit closer in his arms. “Well, then… let me try to warm you up.”

Byleth let out a soft exhale. “Thank you…”

Reaching up to gently stroke Byleth’s hair with his hand, Dimitri smiled, settling his cheek into place against the top of Byleth’s head. It felt so nice, sitting together like this, basking in the warmth of the fire before them.

Dimitri never wanted this moment to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings this time. Just some soft!


	8. Fear and Righteousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have no need for a goddess, when all the righteousness I need is right here in my arms."

The next meeting with the council of the Holy Kingdom was only a couple weeks later.

Byleth was dressed modestly enough, though his chest scar was very visible through the deep cut in his shirt. He even wore his older black cloak (or was it a coat? What even were those sleeves?), as a way to keep his shoulders warm. It was chilly that day. Dimitri watched him futz with his hair for a bit, as if anxious that the noblemen at the council would judge him for any kind of flaw, and Dimitri just chuckled a bit as he reached up to smooth down Byleth’s hair.

“You look lovely,” he said.

Byleth immediately blushed. “T-thank you.”

“It’s almost a shame that you have to wear these when we go out…” Dimitri murmured as he reluctantly took up the set of restraints from where the usually lay in a small drawer. “I much prefer how you look without them.”

“Why, do I look prettier to you when I’m not wearing them?” Byleth teased.

Dimitri hesitated to lock the cuffs onto Byleth’s wrists. He looked up into his eyes. Those lovely, gray-blue eyes.

“Well… You look… _happier._ ”

Byleth stared at him for a moment, then smiled. His eyes sparkled a little whenever he smiled like that. “Who knew a king like you could be so sweet?”

The king returned the smile, then looked back down at the metal restraints, and the leather leash that hung between them. Reluctantly, he finally locked one cuff onto Byleth’s wrist, then the other. He lifted up the final cuff, and Byleth obediently lifted his head to let him put it on.

“Forgive me,” Dimitri whispered. “I don’t want to do this.”

“I know,” Byleth answered, his voice so soft and forgiving. “I don’t blame you.”

Dimitri tightened his lips and nodded, relieved that Byleth seemed willing to live with it. With one final _click,_ the collar was secured around Byleth’s neck, leaving him a few moments to adjust to the chill of the metal while Dimitri took up the leash in his hand. Somehow, whenever he wore his restraints, he seemed to look so much more small and fragile than before.

The king’s heart ached at the sight. He reached up to gently lay his hand on the side of Byleth’s face, to try to offer him a little comfort. Byleth leaned into his touch.

“Come on, let’s just get the meeting over with,” said Dimitri.

It seemed like Byleth could already feel all the eyes upon him from the moment they stepped out of the castle and into the carriage. He didn’t look up, and his shoulders were quite tensed, his arms held close to his middle as he was led along by his leash. Especially as they approached the grand meeting hall, where now he was visible for all the eyes of the council.

Including Lady Rhea.

He didn’t even look up when they got close enough to her; he seemed to sense her presence, and it made him look sick. Dimitri did his best to conceal his concern, his desire to hold Byleth tight and reassure him that everything was going to be okay. He couldn’t even give him a comforting smile. No, he had to be cold and cruel, just like the Archbishop expected of him.

“Good afternoon, your majesty,” Lady Rhea said softly as Dimitri took his seat at the council table. Her eyes drifted up to look at Byleth, who now stood quite stiffly beside the king. “I trust that your prize has been behaving himself well this past month?”

“Yes, my lady, he has.” Dimitri elected to give the leash a small tug, getting Byleth’s attention, and making the chains rattle slightly. “Haven’t you?”

Byleth quickly tensed. “…Y-yes, master,” he stammered, clear fear in his voice. He didn’t have to fake that.

Hearing that and seeing that uncomfortable look in Byleth’s eyes was almost too much for him to bear. Hopefully it wouldn’t have to be like this for the whole meeting.

“Tell me, King Dimitri,” said one of the lords of the southern regions, “how did you manage to tame the Ashen Demon? He seems to be quite obedient now, and yet it’s only been a few weeks since his capture.”

Dimitri grinned. “Quite simple, really. I just had to show him who’s boss.”

“I see,” the lord said, resting his elbows upon the table and resting his intertwined fingers under his chin. “I suppose you’ve trained him well, then.”

“Indeed I have. He obeys me without question.”

One of the barons across from him chuckled, an uncomfortable sort of hunger in his eyes as he looked over at Byleth, and Byleth shuddered as if he could _feel_ the baron’s eyes on him.

“Well then, your majesty,” Baron Crystoll suggested, “why don’t you have your pet kneel?”

Dimitri could feel Byleth tense at the idea. However, Dimitri was wise to hide his own discomfort at such a notion, instead choosing to let a little grin spread across his face, his eye shadowed over. When Byleth glanced down at him to see his face, a freezing cold shiver rattled his nerves. He hadn’t seen Dimitri’s eyes look so cold since his first night at the castle.

The king was about to say something in agreement, but the Archbishop spoke up before him.

“Such a fine idea, Baron Crystoll,” she said. “Tell him to kneel, like the dog he is.”

Dimitri let out a soft hum, as he tugged on the leash, hard enough to get Byleth to bend down so his head was closer to Dimitri’s, so he could hiss in his ear.

“You heard her, pet,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “On your knees.”

Byleth was definitely shaking by now, and that frightened look in his eyes couldn’t help but make Dimitri feel _awful_ inside. Still, Byleth tightened his lips, bowed his head, and muttered a little “Yes, master,” before obeying the order. Even when he knelt down beside Dimitri’s chair, he still appeared to be trembling, and he didn’t dare look up.

A few of the nobles muttered or chuckled amongst themselves. Dimitri could hear some of them, and henceforth, he knew Byleth could hear them, too.

“A shame that the king gets that handsome one all to himself, eh?”

“How pathetic. This is what’s become of the emperor’s closest confidant?”

“He really is a good little pet, isn’t he?”

Just for good measure, Dimitri reached over and laid his hand atop Byleth’s head, rubbing a little bit and still grinning at him. It made Byleth shut his eyes, his lips still tightened and his shoulders still tense. Even that gesture alone couldn’t be comforting.

As usual, the meeting was not even a couple of hours. Still, throughout that time, Dimitri could notice the nobles in the room smirking in Byleth’s direction, or looking at him mockingly. The Ashen Demon, the infamous ruthless mercenary, reduced to a king’s obedient slave. Everyone else took pleasure in the sight, especially Lady Rhea.

But for Dimitri… it felt like more guilt than he could bear.

Anytime someone made some sort of mocking comment about Byleth, Dimitri had to laugh with them. He had no choice but to agree with them, to joke at Byleth’s humiliation. Even Lady Rhea had a comment or two. It made Dimitri feel increasingly anxious to get out of there, making the minutes tick by as if they were hours.

Minute….

By…

…minute.

At long last, the meeting was finally over. They would convene again in a few weeks. Dimitri felt a twinge in his gut as he had no choice but to pull Byleth up by his leash, and Byleth shook as he managed to stand up. He almost looked as if he was about to be sick. It nearly broke Dimitri’s heart to see him like this. But they had to hold on just a little longer; just until they got back to the castle.

Lady Rhea didn’t stop them on the way out this time, for which Dimitri was relieved. There were still a few snickers and offhand comments, but Dimitri did not feel the need to add anything. He couldn’t bear to.

The way back to the castle was… tense, to say the least. Fear still hung heavily in Byleth’s eyes. Dimitri couldn’t quite tell if Byleth was still trembling; maybe he was trying to hold it in. He didn’t say anything, even when they were alone in the carriage, even when they stepped back into the castle and headed back upstairs. Byleth kept his head bowed and his hands held close to his middle.

Dimitri could feel the weight on him lifting and a knot in his throat forming as soon as they entered his chambers. Now they were alone at last. Almost frantically, he took the key from his pocket and unlocked Byleth’s chains, letting them drop to the floor in a loud clatter.

Byleth only had time to look up at him for a moment before Dimitri pulled him into his arms, holding tight, but not tight enough to hurt him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I didn’t mean it. Not a word.”

Byleth seemed frozen for a moment. Then, his arms reached up to hold Dimitri, hesitantly nuzzling his cheek into Dimitri’s shoulder. His eyes were shut, and he seemed to relax more as every moment passed.

“I know,” he finally said, his voice very soft. “You did what you had to.”

After a couple of minutes, Dimitri pulled back, but only so he could run his hand over Byleth’s hair, resting at the side of his face again. It was definitely a gentle gesture now, and Byleth readily leaned into the embrace. He looked a lot less shaky, the fear gone from his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Byleth nodded. “I’m okay.”

The king looked down at him, quickly becoming lost in his gray-blue eyes. Even after having gone along with all the awful things the council was saying about him, after having made him kneel in humiliation at the meeting, tugging on his collar… there was still that gentle and forgiving look in his eyes. That soft little smile that always seemed to make Dimitri absolutely _swoon_ these days. To see him accept him anyway filled Dimitri’s heart with a joy that he didn’t know he could ever feel anymore.

Both his hands held onto the sides of Byleth’s face, gently cupping his cheeks. Byleth’s own hands rested atop Dimitri’s chest, looking up at him curiously, as if curious as to what Dimitri was going to do.

Dimitri leaned in a little closer. So did Byleth.

Both of them shut their eyes as their lips met, so delicately, not like the hungry, heated kisses from the night of the ball. This was so much more… tender. Not inhibited by wine, or obligation, or the heated desires of the flesh…

…this one felt _real._

A few beautiful moments passed. Dimitri finally pulled back, seeing a soft flush on Byleth’s face. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“I-I’m not sure how I managed this, but…” Dimitri stammered, his heart so full it felt like the words were spilling out of him desperately. “…I love you, Byleth. From the bottom of my heart, I never wish to see you frightened or in pain again.”

Byleth let out a soft little laugh, his hands reaching up to rest on Dimitri’s shoulders. “Dimitri… I love you, too.”

Dimitri didn’t know why, but hearing that made him feel so relieved. Like he wasn’t crazy for feeling this way about the man who was supposed to be his war prize. But the more he thought about it, the more it started to hurt; knowing that they could never truly be happy. He sighed sadly, feeling his throat close up a little more, his smile disappearing.

“I wish you didn’t have to come with me to those dreadful meetings.”

Byleth leaned up and gently kissed Dimitri’s cheek. “I know. I’ll live with it.”

Once again, Dimitri found himself wrapping his arms around the smaller man, as if to draw him into a cocoon of kingly protection. Byleth nuzzled the side of his face into Dimitri’s neck, letting out a soft sigh.

“Would you like me to stay?” Dimitri offered. “I can drop everything for the rest of the evening.”

Byleth nodded. “Yes… Don’t go.” His voice sounded a little shaky and weak, like he was almost trying not to cry. “I thought I could get through the meeting without a hitch, but… then I saw her. I felt so _scared…_ And I felt so cold and empty all over again…”

“Shh, shh…” Dimitri whispered, running his hand down the back of Byleth’s head. “Let’s not worry about that now. You’re safe here with me.”

“I hope so…”

“Will you let me try to warm you up?”

Byleth smiled softly. “Yes, Dimitri. Please do.”

Now that early evening had arrived, the clouds had fallen over the sun, casting lonely gray shadows into the king’s quarters. But the two of them didn’t care. Dimitri went back in for a much deeper kiss, reaching down to scoop Byleth up from the floor to carry him over to the bed. Byleth let out a content little moan as he was laid back against the soft blankets, as Dimitri leaned over him on both his hands and knees. He spread his legs open, nudging his knees against Dimitri’s sides.

Dimitri pulled away from the kiss for a moment to look down at him and smile. “Getting so excited already? And I haven’t even taken anything off yet.”

Byleth let out a soft laugh. “Can you blame me?”

“Not at all,” Dimitri replied, leaning down to kiss Byleth’s neck, which was still a little sore and slightly marked up from wearing a metal collar for half the afternoon. Dimitri intended to cover up those marks with ones of his own.

Byleth leaned his head back, reaching up to unclip Dimitri’s cloak from his shoulders, letting it fall away. He moaned again as Dimitri began to pull Byleth’s coat away from his shoulders and started to lightly nip at his neck; a beast testing the water against their willing prey. Already well on their way to undressing each other, Dimitri’s hand slid beneath the fabric of Byleth’s shirt, gently caressing his chest.

“Hah… Dimitri…”

“Mm, yes, Byleth?”

When Dimitri pulled up his head to look at Byleth, his eyes were aglow with desire. The sight of him like this, cheeks flushed and chest half-exposed, was hopelessly arousing.

“Take me,” Byleth whispered. “Like the night of the ball.”

Dimitri blushed deeply, a pleased little smile forming on his face. “As my beloved so wishes.”

“Beloved?” Byleth repeated, as if he didn’t quite believe it. “I… I mean that much to you?”

“Of course you do…” Dimitri answered. He was already pulling Byleth’s coat off, undoing the front of his own uniform, and pulling up the light white fabric of his shirt up so it could slide off his arms. “You make me happier than I’ve been in many years… and all I want to do is make you feel just as happy. To make your heart feel as warm and full as my own…”

“Oh…” Byleth’s eyes glittered, and he looked unsure of what to say.

Dimitri finally tossed both their shirts away, leaning back down to kiss and nibble at Byleth’s collarbone, his chest, his shoulder… He wanted to mark him. He wanted there to be something other than chains and a leash to let others know that Byleth was _his._ No one else could mark him like this, no one else could have him, or hurt him. Hell, Dimitri would not even allow anyone to dare frighten him. Byleth was his to protect, his to cherish, his to take care of.

No Archbishop or any kingly duties would get in his way.

As he kept leaving little marks on Byleth’s skin, Byleth let his mouth hang open slightly, a few gasps escaping him. His hands were caressing Dimitri’s back, persuading him to nip at him even more.

“Don’t worry… I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m not worried, Dimitri. I know I’m safe with you.”

Dimitri smiled, pleased. “Good, good…”

He reached down to tug at the hem of Byleth’s pants, eventually able to tug them over his hips and down his legs so he could toss them away. With his hands resting on Byleth’s hips, which looked so fragile and delicate compared to Dimitri’s hands, he leaned back down and kissed Byleth’s chest again, slowly inching his way down his stomach.

“Dimitri…” Byleth gasped, his fingers reaching down to nestle themselves into Dimitri’s hair.

“Are you alright so far?”

Byleth was blushing even more. “Yes… D-don’t stop.”

And Dimitri was more than happy to oblige. He leaned down again and, only hesitating for a moment, he took Byleth into his mouth, gentle and deliberate.

Byleth instantly let out a gasp, his back arching. “Hah… Dimitri…”

Dimitri didn’t stop. He began to slowly work his head up and down, almost agonizingly slow, to make Byleth _swoon_ but not fast enough so that the pleasure was over too quickly. The motion earned a few more high-pitched moans out of Byleth, the heat in his nerves rising quickly. Pleased at the reaction, Dimitri slowed down even more, drawing it out. Byleth’s hands tightened in his hair, and Dimitri softly grunted at the feeling of his hair being pulled.

_Gods, that’s hot._

“F-fuck,” Byleth breathed. “You’re good at this.”

 _I know_ , Dimitri wanted to reply, but his mouth was otherwise occupied.

Not that he was complaining. His mind was in absolute bliss, even though his own most sensitive places weren’t being stimulated like this, the pleasure was intoxicating. To have this kind of control all for his partner, to so gently and carefully drive them to the brink of a dizzying climax… _goddess above,_ it was so much more gratifying than he could have ever dreamed of.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

_You’re_ mine. _No one else gets to have you, my beloved. And because you’re mine, I get to protect you from those who would do you harm…_

“Ah- ah- _ah-!_ D-Dimitri, I’m- I’m so close…”

Byleth was getting very twitchy now, little moans and whines escaping from his parted lips when he wasn’t biting on them. He still kept pulling at Dimitri’s hair, not very hard; just enough to let him know he was starting to get absolutely dizzy from the pleasure.

Finally, Dimitri pulled his mouth up, letting go. Not even bothering to wipe up the wet trail that slipped down his chin, Dimitri immediately took him into his hand, still slick and very warm, and began to stroke him, fast enough to drive him to the edge. One of Byleth’s hands let go of Dimitri’s hair, only to cling to a handful of the bed sheets.

“Okay…” Dimitri whispered, mesmerized at the sight of Byleth’s flushed face. “Now let it go.”

Byleth arched his neck and let out a choked, high-pitched cry as he released, and it was the most erotic thing Dimitri had either seen or heard. He spilled all over Dimitri’s hand, but he didn’t mind. That could be washed off. He could still taste him.

After a few long moments, Byleth relaxed again, his eyes shut, taking the time to catch his breath. The post-coital glow on his skin made him look almost _holy_ in Dimitri’s eyes, and for a minute he could only stare in spellbound awe. This was a hallowed sight, reserved for his eyes alone.

What a sacred honor.

Dimitri gave Byleth’s hip a reassuring little squeeze before getting up to duck into the washroom, letting Byleth have a moment to come back to himself. Just so he could feel more comfortable for the rest of the night, he washed off his hand and rinsed out his mouth. Next time, though, he promised himself, he’d leave that lovely taste behind for a little while longer.

He stepped out of the washroom, wearing only his pants and eyepatch, to see Byleth, his arms sprawled out luxuriously over the sheets, wearing nothing but the marks Dimitri had given him all over his neck, shoulders, and chest.

Byleth turned to look at him and smiled.

As Dimitri laid down beside him and took him into his arms, pulling him close against his own chest, Byleth let out a soft, content little hum.

“Are you warm enough now?”

“I think so,” Byleth murmured.

Realizing it was still quite early in the evening, Dimitri sat up, so he could take up one of the softer blankets atop the bed. Then, wrapping the smaller man up in it, he scooped him up, lifted him off the bed, and carried him over to the fireplace, settling down on the sofa with Byleth nestled into his lap. Byleth snuggled the side of his face into Dimitri’s shoulder, sleepy and content.

“…I could get used to this.”

Dimitri leaned his head over to lay a kiss atop Byleth’s soft blue hair. “I feel the same way. I like this little evening ritual we do, staying by the fireplace like this.”

“I like it, too.”

They sat like that quietly for a while, saying nothing. Byleth still had not fallen asleep yet, though it seemed he was on the brink of doing so.

“I love you, Dimitri…” Byleth softly murmured, his eyes shut and his body resting comfortably in Dimitri’s arms.

Dimitri leaned in to lay a gentle kiss on Byleth’s lips. “And I love _you._ ”

_You holy creature…_

_How honored I am… No, how very_ blessed _I am to be graced by your presence, your acceptance, your gentle beauty… I have no need for a goddess, when all the righteousness I need is right here in my arms… Oh, how I could worship you for eternity._

_Could eternity ever be so long enough for us?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: slavery themes, mild humiliation, and some soft, romantic smut at the end.


	9. The Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring and romance are in full swing at the castle in Fhirdiad.

Things were easier and harder at the same time ever since then.

Now, it seemed that being apart was agony.

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, at least when they were alone. Even when Dimitri was doing some work in his office for the afternoon, or had to go on a brief trip into the city for the day to oversee some new repairs, it left him antsy, his mind in a far-off place. Byleth felt the same way, the hours inching by infuriatingly slow. The moment the door to Dimitri’s chambers shut, their lips would lock, and all their worries and the chill in their souls would fade away with the warmth they made between them.

Even when elsewhere in the castle, when Byleth had to wear his restraints, if only briefly, sometimes Dimitri would be brave enough to steal a kiss behind a dark curtain, or when the servants had their backs turned, or when a hallway was empty long enough.

The euphoria was overwhelming them, to say the least. As if the fates guiding the world had seen the joy they found with each other, a long string of warm days arrived in northern Faerghus, bringing sunshine and encouraging green things to grow. Flowers that were planted in the gardens some weeks before had begun to sprout and grow, the colored buds promising even more beautiful days to come.

The gardens themselves were a comfort enough to the two lovers, a reassurance at the back of their minds, as they managed to get through yet another meeting.

Byleth had prepared for this one a little better. His fear and stiffness wasn’t genuine, and somehow, Dimitri could tell. And likewise, Byleth could tell that Dimitri’s icy cruelty was fake. Miraculously, no one else at the meetings could see through their facade.

Not even Lady Rhea.

Still, despite their well-thought out acting, they couldn’t help but feel increasingly anxious that she would be able to see right through them. Her eyes seemed to know too much. That deceivingly gentle smile hid a deep-seated rage.

It felt like they were one miscalculated step away from having their world collapse.

But when their meeting was over and they could go back home, they found relief in each other’s presence, in the easy thrill of hiding their kisses from the castle staff and guards, in their little evening habit, and even in the gardens in the inner courtyard.

One particular afternoon was as idyllic as ever. Spring seemed to be in full swing, the chill of winter having long since faded away. Things were growing well, the wind was refreshing, and even a few songbirds had made their way into the trees. Dimitri and Byleth were sitting on a white marble bench together, dressed in light, pale clothing since it was so warm. They were away from the eyes of any servants or guards. They were alone.

Dimitri looked over at Byleth and couldn’t help but smile.

“You look so beautiful…” Dimitri murmured.

A soft smile spread over Byleth’s face. He turned to him, seemingly no longer caring that he was wearing his chains and leash. They were leaning closer now, their shoulders touching, their breath so close they could feel it on their cheeks.

“So do you, Dimitri…”

Dimitri couldn’t help it. He tucked a couple of his fingers under Byleth’s chin, tilting his face up enough so they could shut their eyes and share a delicate kiss. For a moment, the world was all theirs. For a moment, all was warm and perfect.

Then Byleth opened his eyes. He quickly pulled away, seeing something behind Dimitri’s shoulder.

“Oh-“ He sounded startled.

“What’s wrong?”

Dimitri turned too, and his face immediately turned red, struck with flustered panic.

“D-Dedue!” he cried, instinctively moving so he was almost protectively in front of Byleth. “How- how long were you standing there?”

Dedue looked both perplexed and slightly uncomfortable, standing there on the path a few paces from the bench. He glanced away, almost ashamed to have seen the king and his pet like this.

“Er… A thousand apologies, your majesty… I was simply going to inform you that a full report on the completed restoration of Garreg Mach has arrived.”

There didn’t seem to be any danger, so both Dimitri and Byleth quickly relaxed. Dimitri’s reddened face started to go back to normal, as did their heartbeats. Byleth still wasn’t used to his own.

“Oh, uh…” Dimitri started, then took a moment to breathe in deep and let it out. “That’s- that’s good. I’ll take a look at it before the afternoon is over.”

He looked back over at Byleth, as if to silently and worriedly ask him what to do, what the _fuck_ should I say now. Byleth didn’t have an answer, but he didn’t look frightened at all anymore. That look in his eyes alone was reassuring for Dimitri.

“Ah, Dedue,” Dimitri began, stiffening his nerves a little to regain a kingly composure. “If you saw what I think you saw… may I request that you keep this between us?” Instinctively, he reached over a little bit and squeezed one of Byleth’s hands. “This… this needs to stay a secret.”

Dedue observed this, blinking. Then, a gentle little smile crept over his face, and he bowed a little towards the king. “You can trust me, your majesty. Your secret is safe with me.”

Somehow, Dimitri and Byleth both knew that from the start, but to hear it from Dedue directly alleviated the last of their anxiety about it. They both relaxed a little more, though Dimitri didn’t let go of Byleth’s hand.

“I’m glad to hear that, Dedue…” said Dimitri. “We really appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem at all, your majesty. Though, if you will forgive me… I’m not all that surprised that it came to this between you and him.”

That made Dimitri go red in the face again, and seeing that made Byleth laugh quietly.

Unbeknownst to the three of them, there was a fourth person in the gardens that afternoon.

A young maid who’d only come out to water some of the growing flowers, and who froze behind a tree when she realized the king himself and his pet were there, and what they were doing. She overheard everything. Raised in the Church of Seiros, the girl felt she owed her life to Lady Rhea, to give back to her somehow by taking a noble initiative someday, to prove her worth to such a holy woman.

What she was about to do may cost her her position as a maid in the castle, but she felt it was her duty to the Church.

She now held a precious secret.

So, when the three figures had left the gardens, the girl rushed out, and rushed to scribble the news in a letter. That letter was handed off to a delivery boy, who attached it to a messenger bird, who was released into the skies to deliver it.

That bird arrived at Garreg Mach, where the letter was taken off it by a dutiful nun, who took it personally to the archbishop herself in her audience chamber.

The secret was out.

Spring can still bring violent storms.

_There’s a million sad stories on the side of the road_

_Strange how we all just got used to the blood_

_Millions of stories that’ll never be told_

_Silent and froze in the mud_

_Silent and froze in the mud…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW for this shorter chapter! But the next one will be a bit rough, so be warned! Grab your tissues!


	10. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Punishment and practicality.

Some days later, a blanket of dark clouds arrived quite quickly, promising rain. This was enough to get Byleth and Dimitri to head back inside from the gardens, from where they usually liked to relax together this time of day if they had the time. The hallways of the castle were quiet and empty, as they usually were, though with the chill of a coming rainstorm and the darkness it brought with it, it almost appeared to be evening, and not the middle of the afternoon.

Dimitri wanted to lean in to gently kiss Byleth’s cheek, but for whatever reason, he chose not to.

He just… looked so beautiful, with his cheeks gently flushed from the sunshine that had only just gone away…

Oh, if only they could have stayed outside a little while longer.

Then, the hallways were silent no longer.

Figures appeared on the other end; figures in shiny armor, almost white in the glint of the faint torch lights along the hall. Dimitri and Byleth froze in confusion.

Were those… Knights of Seiros?

Byleth instinctively took a step back as the knights approached, behind Dimitri. His chains quietly rattled a bit from the movement. There were four of them, marching dutifully, closer to the king and his pet. Dimitri stood strong, still holding onto the leash in his hand.

“Why have you come here?” Dimitri growled.

“Step aside, your majesty,” one of the knights answered.

Two of them stepped forth and suddenly _grabbed_ Byleth’s arms, pulling him away from Dimitri’s side. Both their eyes instantly widened in fear, realizing what was happening.

_No, no- Not this, not now-_

“D-Dimitri-?”

“Now hold on, release him this instant!” Dimitri snapped.

He tried in vain to grab the leash again after it had been yanked from his hand by another one of the knights. They were pulling Byleth away, back down the hall from where they had come from. The other two knights, holding lances, crossed them in front of the king, to keep him from moving forwards. The panic in Byleth’s eyes made Dimitri _terrified._

_Oh- goddess above, please, NO!_

“Dimitri!” Byleth cried, trying to struggle against the two knights dragging him back. It wasn’t working. He was too weak, too cold, too scared. “Dimitri, help!”

Dimitri was shaking, trying with all his might to lurch forward to break away from the knights. His strength had _frozen_ in his blood, leaving him nothing but a desperate mess who could barely move.

“Damn you, _let him go!!_ ” he shouted.

The knights ignored him. The end of the hallway was getting closer. Dimitri’s heartbeat was going _crazy,_ his chest heaving, his vision tunneling, until all he could see was Byleth’s terrified face, still getting further and further away. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t do anything.

Byleth tried once more to pull away from them. His eyes wide with overwhelming panic, he let loose one more desperate scream-

“ _Dimitri!!_ ”

And he disappeared around the corner, along with the two knights that held him fast.

Byleth was _gone._

_GONE._

It took a few long, trembling moments for that to settle. Dimitri grit his teeth, shaking in rage. Letting out a growl, he turned and grabbed one of the knights by the front of their armor, with an animalistic strength, and pulled them up to his face. His teeth were bared in a snarl.

“ _Where’s Lady Rhea?!_ ”

The knight didn’t answer at first. How fitting for such completely covered soldiers to take Byleth away, to tear them apart from each other. With their bodies protected by silvery armor, their faces shadowed behind stark helmets, they looked almost more like machines or statues, rather than humans just dressed in armor. It made it easier for Dimitri to feel hatred for them. Not thinking of them as people.

“She’s waiting for you in your office, your majesty,” the knight finally said, cold and calculated.

“ _Fine,_ ” Dimitri hissed, shoving the knight back.

The king’s blood was hot with fury as he stomped back down the hall, then up a set of stairs. No servant dared stand in his path, for they knew that rage in his eyes well. The storm rumbled outside, mimicking that of the boiling anger in Dimitri’s gut. How _dare_ they take his beloved away from him? He would make them pay. He was going to make them regret what they did. He’d kill every last one of them if he had to…

The moment he stepped into his office, seeing her silhouette standing against a violent flash of lightning outside… he froze.

There was that soft smile.

His rage transformed right back into fear.

“Good afternoon, King Dimitri,” she said sweetly, her hands gently clasped in front of her. The same hands that had torn Byleth’s Crest stone from within his rib cage.

He took a shaking step forward. “W- _why?_ ” he gasped, his one eye wide and pleading. “Why have you taken him from me? He’s _mine._ You gave him to me yourself.”

Lady Rhea nodded, an unfamiliar chill rising in her eyes. “Indeed I did. But it has come to my attention that you were misusing your gift. Need I remind you that he is to stand as an _example_ to never dare stand against the Holy Kingdom or the Church? That is the only reason he is still alive. And I’m afraid you’ve gone far softer on him than he deserves.”

She knew he had fallen in love with Byleth. Somehow, she’d found out. And for it, he was punished, by having his own war prize be taken back.

She’d held that power all along. This whole time, his beloved had never been safe, not even within the walls of the castle, not even in Dimitri’s arms.

_Was he ever really mine to begin with?_

Dimitri gulped hard, clenching two trembling fists, as he stepped further into the office and _slammed_ the door shut. Lady Rhea was not fazed. She didn’t even flinch at the noise. Not even at the loud crack of thunder that roared in the heavens outside.

“How did you find out?” he hissed.

“The way to discovery does not matter. But if you were worried, your precious vassal was not the one who divulged this information to me. I procured your secret a different way.” She smiled again, ever so sweet and motherly. “Did you really think you could love a _slave_ and think I could not know?”

Dimitri grit his teeth again, that burning, beastly anger coursing through his blood. The fact that Dedue had not been the one to spill the secret was no comfort to him, not right now.

“Tell me what you intend to do with him. Is he going to be locked up in some frozen dungeon to rot the rest of his days away? Exiled? _Publicly executed?_ ” He swallowed again, terrified at the very idea. “Please, I have to know what’s to be done with him…”

Lady Rhea turned towards the window, watching the rain fall against the glass panes just as it began. “I have arranged for him to be transferred, to someone who will not be as soft on him as you were. He will not be imprisoned or executed, I assure you. It would be a terrible shame to have such a beautiful face go to waste like that.”

Hearing her refer to him as _just a pretty face_ made him feel the need to vomit. How dare she?

To know he wasn’t going to die or just be locked away was a relief that Dimitri couldn’t deny, but horror still held his nerves tight. _Someone else_ was going to have him, someone else was going to _own him._ To yank on his leash, hiss cruelties at him, keep him confined and helpless and cold and empty…

_No, no, they can’t have him, he’s mine, he’s MINE—_

Dimitri swallowed again, just to try to steady himself. So all he could muster was a quiet “I see.”

“But don’t worry yourself, your majesty,” Rhea soothed. “You’ll see him again soon enough.”

The king grit his teeth at her, a wild beast before a steady one. “Tell me, Lady Rhea… Do you take pleasure in the suffering of those around you?”

She ignored his question. “Byleth Eisner is not your war prize anymore,” she said. “This is your punishment for not treating him like the slave he truly is. Like the _example_ he lives to embody.” With that, she began to move towards the door, briefly passing by the enraged king’s shoulder. “You should be grateful that I did not arrange for you to be sentenced as a traitor to your kingdom for fornicating with an enemy.”

“You wouldn’t.”

She turned to look at him. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. Simply because I would rather not clean up the political messes that would ensue after having rid the kingdom of its king. We’re already dealing with the old empire territory, after all.”

That made a shiver run down Dimitri’s spine. She’d spared him from being accused of treason, only for practicality. How terrifying.

He steeled his shoulders, turning away from her. “I see.”

“Good. I knew you’d understand.” He heard her opening the door. “Good day, your majesty.”

The door shut with a small click. The archbishop was gone, leaving him alone. Lighting flashed outside again, casting unnerving if not brief shadows of pale blue across the floor, across Dimitri’s face. The roar of the thunder did nothing to calm Dimitri’s raging heartbeat, his nausea, his awful dread at whatever was going to happen to Byleth.

Overwhelmed with the most horrific rage and despair he’d felt in years, Dimitri fell to his knees and _screamed._

~

Somewhere amidst Byleth’s terror, he realized he’d been unceremoniously thrown into the back of a wagon, wooden and uncovered. The knights who dragged him all the way out here followed, with more knights driving said wagon, and soldiers mounted or on foot around them. This was an entire entourage, here just to take one person away from the castle.

The cold wind of a quickly approaching storm blew in wildly from the west, and it went right through Byleth. He shivered, holding his hands close to his chest and shutting his eyes.

The wagon started moving. High up in the skies, the storm rumbled to life, cracking open to let the raindrops begin to fall to the earth. They hit Byleth’s hair, his face, the back of his neck, freezing cold, making him twitch every time a new one hit him. He had no idea where the wagon was going; were they taking him to some lonesome prison elsewhere in the city? That had to be it. This was his punishment, for daring to let himself fall in love with the king of Faerghus.

For not being humiliated enough.

How had he not thought of this before? Seiros had held all the cards right from the start. She knew. She found out. So this was the move she decided to make.

First, she’d taken his friends.

Then, his Crest.

Finally, his freedom.

Now? Even the man he loved.

Still not opening his eyes, Byleth rested his forehead upon his knees, just trying to breathe deeply. Whatever fate had in store for him, he’d do his best to take it without struggle or complaint. There was no going back now, and he knew it. The thunder rumbled again, louder this time, making even more rain fall.

Within minutes, Byleth was soaked to the bone in the cold, cold rain. He couldn’t stop shivering, his chains rattling from the effort. The metal collar felt tighter than it should be.

Somehow, something in his soul knew that he wouldn’t ever feel warm again.

After some time, Byleth realized that the road felt much rougher, not the cobblestones of the city. He lifted his head, daring to look around. The entourage of knights and soldiers had moved out of the city, onto the road leading beyond, to the north, instead of the one leading south, the one Byleth recognized as the direct way to Garreg Mach. He did not recognize the road they were on now. It was leading up, into hills covered in pine trees and watch towers. There was no way to know where they were taking him.

There would be no rescue, no salvation, no reassurance, and no warmth.

Byleth was… alone.

The storm grew darker and colder as each hour passed. Byleth wasn’t keeping track of the time anymore, not like he could with this horrid storm, but he estimated that it had been at least two or three since they left Fhirdiad.

 _Maybe they’re taking me deep into the forest to kill me,_ he thought. Would a swift death be his sole blessing?

 _No,_ he thought, quickly pushing that semblance of hope far away. _Seiros wants me to stay alive. She wouldn’t grant me such a mercy as ordering her knights to kill me so quickly._

Even more time passed, leading into nighttime. Some of the knights lit a few oil lanterns to light their way through the pines, and it did nothing to help how cold Byleth was. Even though the rain had stopped, he was certain he was going to get sick from being soaking wet from freezing cold rain water for so long. To try to reserve his warmth, he kept himself curled up tight in the wagon, breathing on his hands every now and then. His fingers felt like ice, like he was in the dungeon beneath the castle all over again.

His mind started to wander to whatever horrible things lay in store for him. If they weren’t taking him into the woods to kill him, leaving his body to the wolves, then where were they going? Maybe the northern shore of Fódlan, to throw him onto a ship going who knows where, leaving him in exile. If not a prison in the city, then perhaps a prison hidden in the hills of the north. He shuddered at the thought of such a cold, cruel place. Or maybe there was some kind of work camp up here, for disgraced war prisoners like him.

Some part of the back of his mind hoped that some of the other Black Eagles would be at this imaginary work camp. The rest of him knew they wouldn’t be.

Cutting through his thoughts, the wagon suddenly stopped. Byleth hadn’t even realized that the wagon was on cobblestones again. He looked up to see that the entourage had come to an enormous mansion hidden away here in the north, walled off and well-guarded. Warm lights glowed from the inside, but it was not a comforting sight. The mansion loomed over them so far that Byleth couldn’t help but feel very small.

Two knights grabbed his arms and pulled him out of the wagon. He gasped at how sudden it was, but quickly fell into step with them, trying not to tremble even more than he was. They were dragging him to the mansion.

As they were beckoned inside, Byleth suddenly realized what this meant. What Seiros’ new plan for him was, to punish Dimitri for loving him and to punish Byleth in turn for loving him back. A way to let him receive proper judgement without being near Dimitri.

Before his mind could finish that horrific thought, he was dragged into some kind of huge entrance hall and thrown to his knees.

“Here he is, Baron Crystoll,” one of the knights said. “A gift from Archbishop Rhea.”

Byleth looked up, trembling. Sure enough, the baron he’d seen at the meetings stood before him, his smile just as sickly as ever. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dimitri, but he was far older, and not nearly as pleasing to the eye; the style of his facial hair and what remained of the hair on his head suggested he seemed to regard himself as handsome, and wouldn’t take any other opinion for an answer. Needless to say, he was an unnerving sight at the moment.

The baron chuckled, satisfied at the sight of the smaller man knelt before him. “So good to see you again, pretty thing.”

He leaned down and grabbed Byleth’s chin, wrenching his face up to look closer at him. Byleth drew in a quick breath, tense, trembling, and terrified.

“Welcome to your new home,” he hissed with a grin. “I’m your new master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: slavery themes, one dude being creepy at the end
> 
> I'M SORRYYYYYYY ;;;;n;;;; They're going to have a happy ending, I promise! Bear with me!


	11. I Can't Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri is not okay.

How terrible a thing, to be haunted by a ghost that’s still alive.

When Dimitri had held Byleth in his arms, the ghosts were silent, resting easy with the same kind of peace the two lovers felt when it seemed that all the world was theirs. Even with Edelgard dead and the empire dismantled, the voices of the dead still ravaged Dimitri’s mind, plaguing him with nightmares and restless days, reminding him of all his failures, of all the blood he could still spill for the honor of the dead. To the ghosts, all the countless lives he took in the war were not enough.

Byleth’s gentle smile and soft voice was his only relief. His greatest joy, and most gentle comfort…

Now that was gone.

Another voice had joined those of the dead. It was Byleth’s voice. Dimitri could hear him crying out his name, and could see him struggling against the knights dragging him away, trying desperately to reach out for him. Begging for help.

And he hadn’t. Dimitri didn’t save him.

He couldn’t.

There had been no closure, no warning, no chance to say goodbye. His worst fear had come true. They’d taken Byleth away, to a colder, crueler master who wouldn’t make the same mistake Dimitri did. It was somehow _worse_ than if Byleth had been killed; he was still living, and was likely suffering now. Cold and empty and alone. If he was dead, at least Dimitri would somewhat know how to cope with it; he’d heard the voices of the dead for this long, after all.

But this was different. This was worse.

Dimitri had barely slept for several days. He hadn’t even stepped into his chambers since the day Byleth was taken, unable to bear to be in the same room where he’d found such comfort in weeks before. He was crumbling. He often refused to leave his office.

Late one evening, Dedue found the king asleep at his desk, seeming to be somewhat resting peacefully. His hair was an unkempt mess, and from what Dedue could see of his face, there were awful tear streaks along his cheek. Dedue’s heart wrenched at the sight. Not daring to wake him, Dedue simply draped a blanket over the king’s shoulders, more carefully so when he heard Dimitri let out a small whimper, as if he was stirring from a nightmare.

He was still very quiet when Dedue let him be, quietly shutting the office door behind him.

No one heard the king when he screamed in his sleep.

The days inched by agonizingly slow. Dimitri did manage to eat something every now and then, but he still could not sleep, and wouldn’t dare step into his quarters, or the inner courtyard. He felt like a ghost, only a shell of his former self without his beloved there. His vassal did his best to make sure the king was taking care of himself, but even this close friend of the king could only do so much.

Finally, two weeks had gone by. It was time for the next council meeting.

The rains had kept Fhirdiad cold and damp for many days now. Dimitri hardly noticed it as he stepped out of the royal carriage and walked into the council hall.

 _Just get through this meeting,_ he told himself over and over again in his head. _Do what you have to. You just have to get through it. And damn you, try to get some sleep tonight. It’ll be fine… the voices will stop eventually…_

When Dimitri took his place at the council table, he finally looked up.

His heart instantly started to race, his eye widening and his blood turning cold.

_Byleth?_

There he was. It was him. Standing at the side of Baron Crystoll. Only, he looked as bad as Dimitri felt. He seemed to still be wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing the day he was taken, and while they did look clean, the sleeves were torn in a few places. The slender, dark metal chains were gone, now replaced with ones that looked to be made of carved bronze, with decorative gold detailing. They looked _heavier,_ and Dimitri inwardly cringed upon imagining the awful bruises those must leave. The collar was taller, covering almost half of his neck, and of course, his master held onto the leash attached to it.

But what really made Dimitri want to be sick was that look in Byleth’s eyes. He looked… exhausted. Miserable and helpless. He was trembling, his head bowed and everywhere tensed in fear or pain. Dimitri was convinced that there were more bruises on him that had been covered up.

Worst of all, the baron was clearly having a wonderful time showing off his pet. He proudly pronounced to the other attendees of the meeting that this prisoner of war had been a gift from both the king and the Archbishop, which Dimitri assumed was a lie he believed; a lie Lady Rhea had told him. Either that, or Baron Crystoll knew the secret as well, and was instructed by her not to let any of the other nobles know. Dimitri wasn’t sure which one was worse.

The baron would tug on the leash or lightly caress Byleth’s chin on occasion, just to mock him and make him feel even more helpless. The other nobles had a few mocking things to say about him, too. This is what a traitorous enemy deserved, right?

Dimitri just focused on the more direct affairs of the meeting. Nothing else. He tried to breathe deeply to control his heartbeat, but not so much so that anyone would suspect. He spoke curtly and quickly, fearing that his voice would start shaking if he used it too much.

He tried not to look at either Lady Rhea or Byleth.

The one time he looked at the Archbishop, who didn’t have much to say during this meeting, she simply had that gentle yet cunning look in her eyes, smiling softly right at him. It made him shiver in fear. She knew how much he was suffering. How much not having Byleth at his side was hurting them both. And she _relished_ in it. Their suffering was their punishment, and it clearly brought her great satisfaction to see it before her eyes.

But it was when he met Byleth’s gaze that he really felt nauseous.

Looking at him a few moments longer this time, Dimitri could see a couple of pale bruises on the side of Byleth’s face, and heavy marks beneath his eyes, like he either hadn’t been sleeping or had been trying not to cry. Or both. He just looked so… awful.

The moment Byleth glanced up, looking into Dimitri’s eyes for the first time in weeks, he tensed up again, swallowing hard. And he quickly looked away, as if unable to bear the sight of him for more than a few seconds. Dimitri thought for sure he saw tears forming at the corners of Byleth’s eyes.

The sight of it wrenched at his heart again.

Everything in him was screaming at him to just grab Byleth and run, to hold him in his arms and keep him away from anyone who would ever want him to suffer. But it wasn’t that simple; in fact it was far more complicated than that, and far worse. He didn’t have the same kind of power and influence that Archbishop Rhea did; he was never the one to decide where Byleth would go.

_I can’t let her do this. She’s a monster, for taking him away from me. I have to get him back- somehow, I don’t care, I don’t give a shit what it takes! He’s mine, you hear, he’s MINE!_

Dimitri had to bite back a whimper as he forced himself to look away.

He felt so… helpless.

And oh god, he hated it.

When the meeting was over at last, he couldn’t bear to look as Baron Crystoll departed, yanking his pet along with him. But he’d heard Byleth’s pained gasp as his collar was tugged on. That alone made him want to throw up. He didn’t get up, not for a few minutes, even after it seemed that everyone else had left. He needed some time to gather himself before getting up.

A gentle hand laid itself on his shoulder.

It made him flinch, startled. He lifted his head to look up, and met the gaze of Lady Rhea.

“I trust you’ve learned your lesson, your majesty,” she said sweetly. “You must never go against my wishes.”

Dimitri stared at her, hoping she couldn’t see the fear in his gaze. He couldn’t muster up anything to say.

Even after she smiled at him again and left, he didn’t move from his chair for nearly an hour. When he stood, he was shaking all over. He nearly threw up in the carriage on the way back to the palace, managing to hold it back.

It was dark out again by the time he stumbled back into his office. The fireplace was warm, but he felt none of the warmth, unable to without knowing his beloved was safe in his arms. He found himself knelt in front of that fireplace, his cloak tossed aside, leaving him feeling small and weak. Looking into the flames before him, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the evening ritual he did with Byleth, his beloved companion… That warmth they’d embrace together, both before them and between them, was ever so comforting…

It only took him a few moments to realize he was crying. Hot tears rolled down his cheek, and the marred flesh under his eyepatch ached. He drew in a heaving breath, unable to see clearly anymore. The new breath he’d just drawn in tore itself out of his chest as a painful sob. He squeezed his eye shut and just let his sobs take over, covering his face with his hands.

And in that moment he came to a horrible realization that had only just now completely settled.

_He was never mine to begin with…_

_And now, I’ll never get him back._

_Byleth, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…_

He cried in front of the fireplace for hours, until he eventually drifted into a tempestuous sleep.

The following morning, the king was up far before dawn. He hadn’t slept well in the slightest, and instead decided to throw himself into his work, even if he couldn’t quite think straight. The voices were back at it, filling the silence with their agonizing pleas.

 _Save me, Dimitri,_ the voice of Byleth whispered. _Save me. Please._

Sometime after the sun rose, Dimitri slammed his fist upon his desk, releasing a loud growl. “Don’t torment me anymore! You’re just in my head! Please, I can’t bear to let you join the ghosts that refuse to leave me alone…” he cried out, rubbing his aching head.

_Dimitri._

_Dimitri, help me._

“ _I CAN’T!_ ” Dimitri screamed.

At that very moment, there was a knock on the door. It made Dimitri’s body flinch violently, a visceral reaction to a sudden noise. His heart was pounding all over again. He had to take a couple moments to breathe deeply, to gather himself.

“Y-your majesty?”

Dimitri breathed a little sigh. “Oh… C-come in, Dedue.”

The door was opened carefully, and the vassal stepped in, carrying a small tray. The steaming cup on it had a familiar scent, and it instantly began to ease Dimitri’s crazed heartbeat.

“Forgive me, but… you were having another bad dream, weren’t you?” Dedue asked, his voice ever so gentle, as he delicately set the tray down on the desk.

“…In a way. You know me too well…”

Dedue sighed a little, pain behind his eyes. “Speaking as both your vassal and your friend, your majesty, I… I have been concerned for you these last few weeks.”

Dimitri found himself tensing a little bit. He glanced up, but didn’t quite lift his head yet. “And w-why is that?”

“It’s been this way ever since that day those Knights of Seiros came and… took him away. You haven’t been well. You barely eat or sleep. Your nightmares are worse than they’ve been in months…” He paused, drawing in a breath and letting it out. “I know you will not want to hear this, but… this might be the way it has to be.”

Dimitri’s gut wrenched at the idea. “I can’t…” he whimpered. “I can’t let it go on like this…”

For a few moments, Dedue didn’t answer. He carefully nudged the teacup and its saucer a little closer to the king’s hand.

“Here. Try to drink some of this. You’ll feel better, I assure you.”

Dimitri had to look up at him, and he managed a small smile, if only for a handful of brief seconds. He reached over to grasp the cup, finding that his hands were shaking terribly. He did muster up enough stillness to take hold of it in both hands and bring it to his lips. Just one small sip after another. That’s all he had to do. Though he couldn’t taste it, the aroma was calming, if only somewhat.

He tried to set it down back on the saucer, but another shaky twitch of his hand ended up tipping it over, spilling the remainder of the tea over part of the desk and dripping onto the floor.

“Oh-“ Dimitri immediately went to try to wipe up the mess with a random piece of paper. He didn’t care what it was or if it was important, he just had to remedy his mistake. “I’m sorry…”

Dedue lifted his hands away, a gentle smile on his face. “It’s alright. Don’t worry yourself more, your majesty. I’ve got it.”

Dimitri was about to protest, but he didn’t have the strength. He let himself slump in his chair as Dedue cleaned up the spilled tea, and arranged and stacked a few of the loose papers on the desk for good measure. When he figured his work was satisfactory, he looked up at the king again. Dimitri’s scraggly hair hung in front of his eyes, his lips slightly parted, emotional exhaustion all over his face.

“Your majesty… Please, you must try to take care of yourself,” Dedue said softly. “The kingdom still depends on you…”

Dimitri tightened his lips, his hands still shaking as he bit back a sob.

“I love him, Dedue,” he whimpered. “I can’t bear to be apart from him… I can’t stand knowing he’s suffering in the hands of that cruel baron… I can’t do _anything_ knowing that.”

Dedue felt the need to put his hand on the king’s shoulder, to attempt to calm him. At the moment, he didn’t have any words to calm him.

Accepting the gesture, Dimitri shut his eye and went on, his shaky voice growing desperate. “I have to get him back, I _have to…_ No matter what it takes. He has to be safe again. I have to figure out some way to do it.” He swallowed hard, resting his elbows on the desk to try to steady himself. “Perhaps I could try to buy him back from Baron Crystoll…”

“What of Archbishop Rhea?”

Dimitri looked up. The grave look in Dedue’s eyes couldn’t be denied.

“Oh… Y-you’re right. She gave the order to have him taken away in the first place… Even if I could negotiate some kind of price for him, there’s no way to ensure she wouldn’t just have him taken again, possibly for good…” He bit down on his lip again, hardly strong enough to bear the very idea of never being able to see his beloved again. It hurt too much to dare to envision.

“What if you were to try to appeal to the Archbishop…?”

Dimitri shook his head, finally deciding to put his shaky hand atop Dedue’s hand on his shoulder. “No… No, I don’t think I could. I cannot go against her wishes. She’s punishing him for standing against the Church… and she is punishing me for loving him.”

Dedue reached forwards to put his other hand on Dimitri’s other shoulder. His king needed him, needed his comfort.

“What she is doing is beyond cruel…” he said. “No one should be punished for love…”

The king whimpered again, clinging tightly to his vassal’s hand. “My dear friend… I… I don’t know what to do.” His eye opened again, looking helplessly into Dedue’s eyes. “…I don’t know what to do.”

Dedue offered him a small smile. “Perhaps you should try to get some rest. You sorely need it.”

“B-but… My duties today… The- the nightmares…”

“It’s alright. I’ll handle it.”

Dimitri couldn’t find it in him to argue with him as Dedue convinced him to stand up, guiding him out of the office and down the hall, to his chambers a little higher up in the castle. When Dimitri realized where they were going, he finally froze up, trying to inch away from his friend.

“W-wait… Not there.”

“Your majesty, please. You need to sleep.”

“But… I can’t…” _I can’t rest in the same bed where he should be with me._

They stepped inside anyway. Dimitri’s heart wrenched painfully at the sight of this room again, and almost burst into tears again upon seeing the fireplace where he and Byleth had wound down in front of it, warm and safe and content and so hopelessly in love…

Dedue guiding him away, towards the bed, was the only thing that snapped him out of that thought. “Here… Try to get comfortable. I’m going to fetch a special tea for you that will help you sleep.”

Dimitri could only nod a little.

He changed out of his uniform, wrinkled and disheveled as it was, tossing it aside so he could slip into some more comfortable clothes. He managed to find a loose shirt and pants that didn’t have Byleth’s scent on them, from all the nights they slept tangled in each other’s arms. How he managed to change clothes at all was a miracle. He sat down on the bed, weary and still, as he waited patiently for the tense silence to be broken.

Dedue returned after only several minutes. Sure enough, he had a fresh cup of tea, one that smelled a little different. Dedue helped Dimitri with this cup, to make sure it wasn’t accidentally spilled. Once he’d finished it, he did start to feel a little drowsier.

First, Dedue set the teacup aside. Then, he helped Dimitri lay down, and tucked the warm bedcovers over his shoulder. Finally, as Dimitri finally let his eye close, he realized that Dedue had shut the curtains for him, leaving the entire room much darker. Not like the gray, rainy light was much to look at these days anyway.

“Rest well, your majesty,” Dedue said softly, before he quietly moved towards the door, and shut it as carefully as he could.

Dimitri did his best to relax, to keep his mind off who should be in this bed with him. Of the man who should be here in his arms, safe and warm. But he wasn’t, and it left a horrible ache in his stead.

Unable to keep it in, but lulled to sleep by whatever was in that tea, Dimitri quietly wept until his exhaustion took him.

_I dream in my sleep_

_I dream in my days_

_Of some sunny street not so far away_

_Where up in a window a curtain will sway_

_And you and I’ll meet down below_

_You and I’ll meet down below…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: mild humiliation, mentions of abuse, mild depiction of psychosis
> 
> once again I AM SORRYYYYYYYY


	12. Pathetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth tries to survive his new life.

It had been almost a month now.

Not like Byleth could easily keep track of the days.

They’d begun to blur together, in a horrible mix of everything he’d been enduring these last several weeks. It was as if everything he’d feared his new life would be like was coming to be, but with a baron of a northern region, and not the king himself. His apprehension about becoming a noble’s war prize had come back in full swing, new and fresh like a nasty wound cut open again. And the infection was settling in. His apprehension wasn’t going away; it was only getting worse with time.

His chains, heavy and tight around his wrists and neck, had only come off a few times. Usually just to bathe so he didn’t always smell like perfume and wine and sex. Most of the time, they only came off so his master could forcibly undress him and have his way with him. And when he did it, it was rough and demanding and exhausting, and even trying to imagine Dimitri handling him far gentler did nothing to make it any better.

It _hurt._ And his master seemed to get off harder whenever Byleth would cry out in pain.

He was grateful it had only happened a few times since he was first brought here. Thank the goddess it wasn’t enough times for him to feel like he was nothing more than a whore.

His bruises were green like the oak leaves in the inner courtyard, purple like the star-shaped perennials that grew close to the stone path cutting through the gardens. He’d only caught a glimpse of those flowers that day, when the storm arrived as quickly as the knights.

Remembering Dimitri was like a punch in the gut.

Remembering the flowers of the courtyard gardens seemed to keep him sane.

Baron Crystoll didn’t just take pleasure in his pet’s fear and humiliation, but in his pain, too. He loved to yank him around by his leash, or grab some part of him (his hair, his ear, his sleeve, his chin… anywhere.) to get his attention so he could hiss something threatening or horny into his ear. It would just leave another bruise, and make him shaky all over again.

There was another small thing he was grateful for, though.

He didn’t have to sleep in entirely awful conditions. He was allowed to sleep with the baron in the master bedroom, though it was not as comforting as his nights with the king. The baron’s hold on his body from behind was _tight_ and _possessive_ , and it unnerved Byleth so much that he wasn’t sleeping well at all. Worst of all, sometimes he could feel his master’s hardness pressing up against him.

It made him feel sick.

He often hoped that the baron would become displeased with him for some reason and make him sleep on the floor instead. At this rate, he would stare at the floor longingly from the bed, knowing that it would be so much more comfortable than to be trapped in the baron’s arms.

Mornings were a relieving blessing. The baron would leave the room at some point to prepare for the day, leaving his barely-dressed pet alone for at least an hour or two. Sometimes he’d sit at the window, like this particular morning, and watch as the thin sunlight made the endless pines of the northern region look lighter.

He liked to fantasize about some way to escape this mansion. He imagined himself taking down guard after guard, tearing his way out, and running into the forest. There’s no telling how long he’d last out there in the wilderness, or where he would go from there, but at least imagining himself being somewhere other than this place was a temporary relief.

Even trying to imagine what it was like to no longer wear his chains was a comfort.

The door opened again, as it always did later in the morning. Obediently, Byleth stood up and turned to look at his master, his heavy chains shifting slightly over already irritated bruises.

The baron was carrying a few kinds of garments over his arm, and a sickly grin was on his face.

That couldn’t be good.

“I’ve brought you some new clothes, slave boy,” Baron Crystoll said as he set the garments down upon the bed. “Put them on for me.”

 _I’m twenty six fucking years old,_ Byleth wanted to snap, but he knew better.

He stepped over towards the bed to see what his master had laid down for him, his heart starting to pound a little- and it quickly relaxed. What lay before him was a pair of black trousers, looking like they reached above his waist, but also looking like they’d be a bit tight. The other item was a loose white shirt, which made Byleth believe it wouldn’t be very warm at all. The shirt looked like it was made out of some kind of sheer material.

Byleth tensed when he felt his master’s lips against his shoulder from behind.

“I want all the servants to see how I’ve marked you up, pretty thing,” he purred. “That’s why you can see through the shirt.”

His hand slithered up Byleth’s torso, dragging the small key along his skin, until it stopped at the heavy bronze collar, where the leash still dangled off of it. It only took one small click to unlock it. He did the same for the shackles on Byleth’s wrists.

“Change into them,” the baron ordered coldly, sitting back in a chair beside the bed, a satisfied little grin on his face. “I’m going to watch.”

Byleth had to hold back a shudder, disgusted at any word the baron said by now. Without even any time to rub his awfully sore wrists or neck, he had no choice but to pull off his nightshirt, letting it drop to the floor beside him, and do the same for the trousers he was sometimes allowed to wear at night. Hearing the baron let out a satisfied groan at the sight of him made Byleth feel even sicker.

Even after several weeks, none of it had gotten better. He wasn’t getting used to any of this.

He squeezed into the pants first, trying his very best to feel comfortable in them. They were obviously designed to accentuate _everything_ , possibly even restrict a bit of movement. The shirt, while loose and light, provided no warmth whatsoever, making him shiver all over again.

“Mm, don’t you look lovely.”

His master stood back up again, and Byleth had to glance away when he thought he might have seen the baron starting to get hard again at the sight of his pet wearing clothes specially picked out for him. The baron was holding up the chains again, one of his fingers toying with the leather leash. Byleth had no choice but to stay still as his heavy chains were locked back onto him, straining at all those stinging chafing marks all over again. He had to bite back a small grunt of pain.

“You’re going to look so pretty in all the things I got for you,” he murmured into Byleth’s ear from behind. “They were all ordered specially for you, you know. You should be grateful.”

He gave the leash a sharp tug, earning a small noise of discomfort from Byleth.

“What do we say?” the baron hissed.

Byleth gulped, shuddering. “T-thank you, master,” he said quietly.

“Mm. Good boy.”

There was a mournful pang in Byleth’s heart. When Dimitri said those words, it was beautiful and soothing, reassuring him that he was happy, that all the fulfillment and joy he needed was right here in his arms. It made a happy little flutter within him.

But when the baron called him a good boy, it was empty and cold. There was no love or warmth to be found in this mansion hidden away between the pines. This is what it really felt like to no longer have any freedom.

And somehow, deep within him, he knew he would never be with Dimitri again.

As his master nuzzled his chilly shoulder, breathing down his collarbone and reaching up to grope his ribs and chest, Byleth felt as if the collar was getting a little tighter. He’d felt this a few times before in the last month, but this was different. No, the collar wasn’t getting tighter. There was a lump forming in his throat.

His eyes started to sting.

 _No, no,_ he insisted to himself, swallowing the lump down and squeezing his eyes shut. _Don’t cry. Not one tear. If you start crying, you won’t be able to stop._

It took all the effort in Byleth’s body to keep from letting any tears out. Thankfully, the baron didn’t notice; he just kept gripping the leash taut, caressing his slave’s chest, nuzzling his shoulder. It only took a few minutes, but Byleth was able to hold it back long enough so it went away, and the collar felt normal again.

_Just forget him. Forget Dimitri._

_But… how can I bear to?_

Finally, the baron stepped away with a soft groan, not letting go of the leash. Byleth finally let out a breath he’d been holding, his chin dipping towards his chest as if in quiet relief.

“Well,” said Baron Crystoll, “I suppose you won’t be needing these rags anymore, then.”

Byleth looked up. The baron was holding the simple shirt and trousers he’d been wearing the day he was taken out of the city. They were a little torn in a few places from where the baron had violently ripped them off on Byleth’s first night in the mansion… but they were salvageable. Byleth was at first apprehensive, looking at the clothes pensively, as if remembering the day of the latest council meeting about a week ago. He’d been wearing those clothes then, as if teasing the king with little signs of how his new owner was treating him. They still smelled like the castle. Like the courtyard gardens.

Like Dimitri.

Byleth forced himself to let his shoulders relax a little. The clothes were probably just going into storage, anyway.

But when the baron stepped towards the fireplace in the master bedroom, the shirt and pants still draped over his forearm, Byleth realized what he was going to do. He took one wary step forwards.

“W-wait-“

The baron paused, looking at his pet with a raised eyebrow. “For what, slave boy?”

Byleth gulped, tensing up again. His chains rattled a bit. “Please don’t burn them. They’re-“

“They’re _rags,_ you stupid thing. Torn and dirty and plain! Aren’t you grateful for all the pretty outfits I got for you?!”

Byleth flinched instinctively at the sound of his master’s raised voice, his heart starting to pound. It had become a routine response by now.

“ _Answer me!_ ”

He flinched again, shutting his eyes and bowing his head. “I’m not ungrateful… But…”

“But?” the baron said, pulling on the leash so it made his pet look up at him, the leash tucked taut under his chin.

Byleth couldn’t hide his shaking now. But the words kept coming out.

“…They’re all I have left of him.”

And there it was. A war prize missing his old master. The rumor from the knights that the King of Faerghus had fallen in love with his prize, treating him like a cherished companion, like a _lover_ of all things, instead of the pathetic, trembling slave he’d been reduced to. That was all the confirmation Baron Crystoll needed.

He flashed a wicked grin at his slave, whose eyes widened a little.

In one swift motion, the baron threw the clothes onto the flames.

Byleth gasped. “Wait, _don’t-!_ ”

He tried to lurch forwards to pull the set of clothes off the burning wood, and only found himself fallen onto his knees in front of the fireplace. It was too late. The torn fabric was already aflame. He stared, trembling, unable to do anything else.

His last trace of the castle, gone forever.

“You belong to _me,_ ” the baron hissed. “And no one else. You are to forget about that pathetic king. Do you understand me?”

Pathetic?

_Pathetic?_

Something within Byleth was set aflame, instinctively, his love for Dimitri stronger than his fear for one foolish moment. He snapped his head up to shoot a fiery glare at the baron.

“ _How dare you call him that!_ ”

He saw a flash of anger in the baron’s eyes.

_SLAP!_

Next thing, he was laying on his side on the floor, the side of his face stinging. His chains felt heavier and colder than ever.

“Did you just _talk back to me?!_ ” the baron roared. “You insolent little fool! You are to only speak when you are spoken to! I want absolute silence otherwise! _Is that clear?!_ ”

Byleth, unable to hold back a whimper, curled up a little bit on the cold wooden floor and managed a nod.

“I said…” The baron yanked on the collar. “Is. That. _Clear._ ”

His throat was tightening up again. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. His voice shook and was hoarse from the effort to keep from breaking as he murmured a quiet, “Yes, master…”

Baron Crystoll let out an enraged little groan. “Get up.”

Byleth had to muster up every shred of his willpower to push himself up, first onto his hands and knees, his chains feeling so heavy it was like they were pulling him down. He finally managed to get back onto his feet, his head bowed. He couldn’t look into the eyes of his master.

The baron let out a dissatisfied little _tsk, tsk_ as he took Byleth’s chin into his hand, uncharacteristically gentle, and tipped it up to force him to meet his gaze.

“You’ll learn, slave boy,” he purred. “I’m going to teach you the meaning of silence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: heavier depictions of humiliation and abuse, mentions of sexual assault. Rougher than most others thus far
> 
> I promise this story will have a happy ending! Bear with me! And thank you all so much for the kudos and comments, they mean so much to me!! :D


	13. Help Me, Dimitri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For love, even a king will make rash decisions.

Dimitri felt sick.

Having had Dedue’s gentle support and guidance these last few weeks, he’d managed to get more rest, and was even able to hold down a few meals. He did feel a little better, trying to take better care of himself and trying to keep his mind off things. As Dedue had explained it, when it comes to physical health and mental health… one follows the other.

Perhaps, Dimitri figured, if he did his best to maintain his health… he’d be able to move on, and be able to be the king that Faerghus needed him to be.

The meetings, however, just made everything harder.

It was good to know he wasn’t crazy for thinking Archbishop Rhea was inhumanly cruel for forcing Dimitri to see the man he loved at the meetings, owned by Baron Crystoll. Dedue thought the same. Even though he agreed with the king, there wasn’t much they could do.

That afternoon, Dimitri had considered just… not going to this meeting. How important was it, anyways? Just cleaning up the messes of the war? Building more walls that shut Fódlan further and further away from the outside world? Utter nonsense. Even in a world that now had peace for the first time in five years, Dimitri found these matters trivial.

And besides, he felt too sick to his stomach. Wouldn’t that be a good enough excuse?

Ultimately, he did go. It would be unwise, he knew, to stay shut away in his castle when Lady Rhea expected him to be there, to take his punishment with dignity. After what happened, he wouldn’t dare undermine her authority again, even if some considered his rank to be higher than hers. In the end, she had more power. So, he managed to trudge his way downstairs from his chambers, making his way to the carriage that was to take him to the council hall.

He felt like a ghost, floating around his kingly duties like this.

“You’re looking much better this afternoon, your majesty,” said one of the lords as he entered the council hall shortly before the king. “I have overheard that you were not well.”

Dimitri was a little taken aback by that, but he knew that this lord meant well in the end. “Thank you, Lord Herzog,” he said, managing a small smile. “My, erm… my health was a little under the weather. What with all this rain. But I have been improving.”

“That is good to hear, your majesty,” said a familiar soft voice.

Dimitri turned to see the gentle gaze of the archbishop.

She smiled at him. “Come, let us take our seats.”

Dimitri took in a breath and let it out as he headed over to his own seat at the council table. He absentmindedly glanced up, at first catching a glimpse of the tacky uniform and thin dark hair of Baron Crystoll. Then, his eyes were drawn upwards, to the shaking figure standing at the side of the Baron’s chair.

The first thing he noticed was what Byleth was wearing this time. Whatever strange amalgamation of draped or cinched fabrics and silver clasps it was, it looked to be an expensive outfit more befitting to a dancer at some kind of opulent, filthy tavern far away. It left plenty of his skin exposed, proudly showing off his bruises for all to see. He was clearly horribly uncomfortable, and he must be freezing.

That made Dimitri want to throw up so badly. But the second thing he saw made him want to _scream._

There was something strapped onto the lower half of Byleth’s face.

Before the king could ask about, it one of the other lords piped up as he took his seat. “Say now, Baron Crystoll, what in blazes is that thing on your pretty war prize’s face?”

The baron looked up with a cunning little grin. “Oh, this?” He reached up to grab Byleth by his jaw, forcing him to lift his head so the council could see the half-mask of tight leather and mesh. “He had a snappy little quip to say the other day, so, he’ll be wearing this for a little while.”

Dimitri’s blood ran icy cold as it came to him.

That thing was a muzzle.

_A fucking MUZZLE._

He had to say something. “I-isn’t that a little drastic, baron?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady and to keep his gut from heaving up what he’d managed to eat that morning.

Baron Crystoll laughed. “Nonsense, your majesty. He’s got to learn that pets don’t talk back.”

Byleth wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t looking at anything. He looked as ghostly and frail as Dimitri had felt, only, his suffering was far more immense. He wouldn’t be able to handle looking at Dimitri; it seemed that if he did, it would just make the pain worse.

Dimitri gulped. “…I see.”

“There, even the king himself understands,” said the baron, tugging on the leather leash again.

Byleth let out a weak little squeak as his collar was pulled on, and Dimitri had to look away.

The baron hissed something at his slave, and though Dimitri wasn’t trying to pay attention to it, he couldn’t help but overhear what the baron said.

“Now get on your knees and stay there like a good little pet.”

He wasn’t going to last this long. He wasn’t going to make it through this meeting. The hours went by in a haze, a blur he was hardly focused on, even when one of the lords or other barons asked him if he was feeling unwell. He tried to write it off as just the constant rain affecting him, but he felt as if he was on the verge of throwing up every organ he had.

_Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him._

_Byleth, I’m so sorry…_

Worst of all, he didn’t even have to look at the archbishop to know that she was loving every moment of this. Both of them were _suffering_ , having to be so far apart and yet so agonizingly close, to be unable to move on and forget when they had to go to the meetings like this. And she loved seeing it. Her punishments were not light, that was for certain.

Some time before the affairs of the meeting were completed, Dimitri found himself standing up, gathering everyone’s attention.

“I apologize, but I’m afraid I must take my leave. I feel quite unwell.”

There were no protests, just a few agreements. As soon as he felt it was alright to leave, he did, stepping away as carefully as he could. Once he was out of eyeshot of them all, he quickened his pace, his hand resting at his stomach as he tried so very hard to hold it in. Just a little bit longer. The carriage is right there. Just a few more steps.

He lifted himself into the carriage and ordered the driver to take him home. Then, he immediately threw up.

The sobs quickly followed.

They were so hard that no sound was coming out, leaving him barely able to breathe between them. His head was aching horribly, the sting of stomach bile in his throat, the wetness of tears on his face. He couldn’t feel anything else, naught but the burning, burning _ache_ in his heart.

There was nothing he could do. Byleth was going to suffer for the rest of his life, or until the baron had grown bored of him. Whenever his life would unceremoniously end, then his ghost would haunt Dimitri for real, joining the ranks of all the others who Dimitri had failed. Like how his father had demanded Edelgard’s head, Byleth would demand for Lady Rhea’s head.

_I’m sorry, Byleth…_

_I’m sorry!!_

The pain consumed him, until time and sensation in the world around him became a blur. He didn’t even notice when the carriage stopped at the castle, or when the door was opened, or when Dedue scooped him into his arms and carried him out. He felt too heavy, too helpless.

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…_

When he came back to himself at last, he realized he was laying down in his bed, soft and warm, though it did nothing to help the ache in his head or the ice in his blood. The curtains had been drawn, leaving the chambers dark. Either that, or it was already nighttime outside. Most likely the latter.

Had his despair gripped him so tightly that he blacked out?

He turned over onto his side, taking a deep breath. He still felt awful. But, he did manage to fall asleep after several minutes, feeling somewhat at peace…

And the nightmares came to him quickly.

Instead of the red, red hands of the dead, reaching up from their muddy graves and grabbing hold of Dimitri to try to drag him into the earth with them… he saw Byleth.

He was on his knees, and covered not in clothes, but in bruises, and bloodied marks that looked like they came from teeth or knives or a whip. The enormous, spidery scar on his chest was wide open, so gaping and destroyed that Dimitri could see the weak convulses of his heart. Heavy bronze chains kept him anchored in a horribly uncomfortable position, leaving him stiff and shaking and struggling to breathe. Bright green blood spilled from the skin beneath his chains.

Dimitri was frozen in place. He watched as shadowy figures, etched in silver and blue, appeared around him, ignoring the king, instead focusing on the broken man before them. And they _laughed._ They kicked at his ribs and dug their fingers into his open wounds and pulled at his hair.

Dimitri couldn’t move. He couldn’t scream.

He couldn’t do _anything._

In the blink of an eye, the figures vanished, leaving Dimitri and Byleth alone in the void. And Byleth looked up, his eyes _wide_ and _dead._ His mouth hung open, and though his face was slack, a horrific scream ripped from his throat, piercing the haunted silence and making Dimitri feel sick all over again.

From the mangled corpse in front of him came more screams and sobs, of pain and despair and merciless heartbreak. But Byleth’s face was still a gray, emotionless slate. A shell of a living being. A husk where a soul should be. A demon of ash. His voice, screaming so hard it sounded as if it was splitting open every blood vessel in his throat, was the only shred of him that Dimitri recognized.

“ _Help me, Dimitri!_ ” he screamed, begging and crying. “ _Please, I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to suffer anymore! SAVE ME!_ ”

Dimitri still couldn’t move.

“I can’t…”

“ _SAVE ME, DIMITRI! SAVE ME!_ ”

Another scream ripped through the air.

Dimitri felt a burning in his throat, and realized it was his own scream that had torn itself out of him. The ghosts in his dreams were gone, leaving only the stillness and silence of his bedchambers. He was sitting up now, breathing heavily. His heart was pounding.

Dawn had not yet come. So he had only slept for a few short hours.

Figures.

Too terrified to go back to sleep, Dimitri grabbed his cloak and slipped out of the room, carefully walking along the hallways in his bare feet to reach his office. That was one of the only places where he felt truly safe from everything, where he could try to keep his mind off things for a little while, ironic as it seemed. Though this time, his nightmare wouldn’t leave his mind, as much as he tried to calm himself down.

Still, he had a little strength to muster up, so he could make a fire in the fireplace of the office. Even if he couldn’t feel its warmth very much, at least he could appreciate the comforting light. He found himself curled up in his cloak in front of it, his knees tucked tightly up to his chest as he stared at the flames blankly.

Maybe there really was nothing he could do. Maybe both he and Byleth were just going to keep deteriorating until they died of humiliation and failing health.

Maybe this was what he deserved. A king should be stronger than this…

But there was no way Byleth ever deserved this suffering.

Then, as suddenly as when he’d woken up some time before, Dimitri lifted his head, his eye wide open. He may deserve punishment to atone for his past sins, but Byleth did not.

Dimitri knew what to do. There was a way to fix this.

_There’s a way._

He almost scrambled to his feet, rushing to his desk and shoving things around to try to find a blank sheet of paper and some kind of writing utensil. At last, after what seemed to be a fruitless search, he found what he was looking for, and began to scribble. He wasn’t completely sure if this way would work. He might not even be able to see Byleth at all for quite some time, even if this did work, but he knew this much; not being able to see him at all would be far better than having to see him chained and muzzled and shaking at the meetings.

It took him the rest of the night, but he did it.

Dimitri was writing a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: depictions of humiliation and abuse, brief mentions of sexual assault, traumatic nightmare
> 
> Okay boys, we're about to transition into a totally new part of the story. Buckle up!


	14. Sothis Help the Outcasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wayward duke wanders the monastery sanctuary.

Claude von Riegan was grateful that the war hadn’t affected this familiar place too badly.

Through the five years of death and torment, Garreg Mach Monastery still stood tall and strong upon the mountain, as immense and graceful and still as ever. Every step along the stone halls or past the dormitories revived dozens of memories, some sweet and fun, some a little more bitter. Claude took it all in stride as he quietly walked into the cathedral.

The repair efforts to the monastery had finished recently, leaving the cathedral looking as glorious as it did over five years ago. Claude felt good about that, since it made it seem like things were back to normal.

If normal was ever enough to begin with.

Something Claude felt better than just _good_ about, though, was the fact that this monastery was a sanctuary to him.

Despite his efforts throughout the war, the Alliance was, well, a mess. Half of the nobility had sided with the now-fallen emperor, leaving many of them enemies of the Kingdom and the Church, with the other half supporting those who were opposed. A straight split down the middle. Now with the empire territory in shambles and most of their own nobles dead, that left plenty of political messes for the Kingdom and Church to deal with. Claude didn’t envy how much work they had to do.

Still, what with how many in the Alliance had stood with Emperor Edelgard, that left Claude at a bit of an impasse. Claude and the rest of his fellow students of the Golden Deer house had tried their damndest to figure out some kind of solution to the war, but in the process, standing against the empire. That didn’t bode well for them, since the allies of the Emperor were still kicking.

Most of them went into hiding, in order to avoid getting picked off one by one. That included Claude, who mostly roamed Fódlan these days, often in disguise or among trusted soldiers. Now that the war was over, he didn’t really know what to do now. He wandered aimlessly over the lands.

But when he’s here, back here at Garreg Mach… he doesn’t have to hide. Those who did not side with the empire were safe here.

In the quiet of the cathedral, Claude lamented in his head to whatever deity would listen. Sothis, Seiros, whatever. How could the war have turned out like this? So many old friends died, students and family and soldiers. Nothing seemed resolved in the slightest, though there was technically no more war.

No one’s dreams came true. There was no room for dreams.

In the back of his head, there was one person Claude couldn’t forget.

Byleth Eisner.

Even though the young professor had chosen to teach the Black Eagles and not the Golden Deer, Claude was still able to form a strange sort of friendship with him from afar, a trusting companionship that unfortunately didn’t really carry into the war. Still, never did they meet on the battlefield, so never was there a risk that they’d have to kill each other. For that, Claude was relieved. But at the same time, Claude found himself missing him.

He wondered if Byleth still sported that pale mint hair and piercing mint green eyes. If he still wore that stupid coat with the slits in the sleeves.

Well… maybe not now.

Months ago, somewhere in the mess that was starting to clean up the end of the war, Claude had overheard a rumor of what happened to the young professor when the empire’s march upon Fhirdiad was crushed. As the rumor went, Byleth had been captured by the Church of Seiros, his crest had been forcibly removed from him, and he ended up given away to some Kingdom noble as a war prize.

What a horrible fate for someone with such a good soul.

It stung at Claude’s heart just to think about it. But… it’s not like there was much he could do.

_Sothis, if you really are still watching over Fódlan… Fuck, I don’t know. Try to make his life a little less… awful._

That was the only prayer Claude could muster up this time. Sometimes, when his wanderings guided him back to Garreg Mach, he’d say a silent prayer to ask for the souls of his fallen friends to find their way to the eternal light, or some bullshit like that. Did he ever truly believe in all this stuff? Probably not. But at least it made him feel a little better about these messes. Some kind of placebo effect, he supposed.

Just as the afternoon light faded away from the cathedral, making those lovely pillars of light lift sideways from the shining floor, Claude decided to slip out again. His cloak was draped over his arm, and he was prepared to put it on as soon as he stepped outside of the monastery gates. There was still no telling whether or not there were any assassins, either from the ex-Empire or the part of the Alliance that sided with the Empire, waiting for him. As always, he walked silently and calmly, to try to not attract any attention. The nuns and priests didn’t bother him, thank goodness.

As he stepped out of the cathedral, he suddenly heard something at his side.

“ _Psst._ ”

He blinked. Then, he turned. Only a guard stood there at the gate.

“…Did you just ‘psst’ me?” Claude asked quietly, his eyebrow raised.

The gatekeeper guard flashed a smile. “I did, sir. I, er… I have a letter for you.”

“…What’s that now?”

“From Fhirdiad.”

Now Claude was even more confused. “ _Eh?_ ”

Looking around as if to make sure they weren’t being watched, the gatekeeper reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small folded piece of paper, swiftly holding it out for Claude to take. “It arrived from the city this morning, sir. By a messenger bird. It happened to fly my way, and, well, I got it.”

Claude hesitantly took it to observe it. The letter was addressed to him, alright. It was sealed in blue wax, with the royal seal of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus implanted into it.

So, most likely, King Dimitri was trying to get his attention. Interesting.

“And you didn’t hand this off to any church officials?” Claude asked, looking back up at the gatekeeper.

The guard shook his head. “N-no, sir. If you’ll forgive me, it… just didn’t seem right.”

Claude smiled a bit. “I see. Thanks, gatekeeper. As you were.”

With a friendly salute exchanged, the gatekeeper guard was back to standing at his regular post, and Claude had slipped away, his cloak concealing him and the letter tucked into his glove. He rushed to a dark corner between the old dormitories, making sure no one could see him, before he finally pulled out the letter, broke the seal and opened it.

Upon the paper began a desperate scrawl.

_Claude,_

_Gather some of our old friends._

_I need your help._

_God help my people_

_We look to you still_

_God help the outcasts_

_Or nobody will._

\- Disney, The Hunchback of Notre Dame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no content warnings this time! sorry for the shorter chapter, I didn't have much else to add!


	15. Don't Cry Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, Teach! It's been a while, huh?"

Another storm seemed to be on its way. Dark clouds had made their way over the moon and stars in the northern regions, filling the forest with impenetrable shadows. The only light to be found was within stone walls, in a mansion hidden away, deep in the pines. Low golden lights shone through the darkness, heavy and still, like a beast made of wood and stone.

The darkness concealed other beasts, hiding in the shadows.

Waiting to make their move.

A cold wind howled outside the windows of the mansion, and the baron’s blood ran hot from rage and too much wine.

Byleth couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t constantly shaking. Everywhere hurt, and everywhere felt cold. With that awful leather muzzle having been taken off some weeks ago, he’d learned his lesson, now only using his voice to either cry out in pain or beg for mercy, or to mutter out another meek little “Yes, master,” when the baron wanted him to. His throat hurt and his collar felt tight all the time now. He wasn’t wearing normal clothes anymore, replaced by expensive draped fabrics that made him feel more exposed and humiliated than if he wore nothing at all.

Tonight, as the stormy spring winds screeched outside, the baron’s heated blood didn’t make him pull his slave onto the bed and order him to bend over. This time, drunk out of his mind, the baron looked for every possible excuse to beat him.

His pet was on his knees again, trying to hold up his shaking hands in defense. Baron Crystoll gave the leash a yank, forcing his pet to lift his head.

“How long are you going to keep disobeying me, you worthless thing?!” the baron roared.

That earned a choked little whimper from his pet. “F-forgive me…”

That just made him madder. The baron drew his hand back and slapped his slave across the face, sending him onto his side on the floor. For a few moments, he laid there almost entirely still, save for his constant trembling.

“ _Shut up, slave boy!_ ” the baron shouted. He lifted up his glass to gulp down the rest of the wine in there, and groaned in disappointment when he found it empty. The bottle on the table was empty, too. With a hiss, the baron hurled the glass against the wall, shattering it. “Ugh. Stay right there. When I get back, I’m gonna teach you a lesson.”

Byleth didn’t move aside from a flinch when he heard the wine glass shattering on the wall. Even when the baron stomped out into the hall and slammed the bedroom door behind him, he laid still for a few moments. He managed to muster up enough strength to sit up, despite how heavy and painful his chains felt. Another whimper left his throat, and the collar felt tighter than ever.

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry._

Even after almost two months of all this torment, he still hadn’t cried. He wondered how long it would take before the dam broke.

Something shifted in the dark.

He sat up, his heart beginning to pound. He was not alone in this room. Frozen in place, he was almost too afraid to breathe.

Several seconds passed.

Then, a gloved hand from behind clamped over his mouth, making him squeak in surprise. Another hand covered his eyes, and he felt someone pressing up against him.

“Be quiet,” a voice whispered, so close to his ear that he shivered. “Not one sound.”

Trembling horribly, Byleth managed a gulp and a small nod.

“Good. Now hold still.”

The hands over his mouth and eyes lifted away, only to pull a dark cloth blindfold over his eyes and quickly secure it behind his head in a tight knot. Two pairs of hands grasped his upper arms and pulled him to his feet, and he only had a moment to catch his breath before he felt a hand on his leg, and his balance shifted as he was being lifted off the floor. There was pressure on his stomach now, one hand gripping his leg and the other holding onto his arm.

Some kind of burly figure was carrying him over their shoulders.

He was being kidnapped.

“Okay, let’s go,” the first voice whispered.

Byleth felt them moving. However many there were in this kidnapping group, they slipped out of the baron’s chambers, into the dark hallway. They were skillfully silent and swift as shadows. Byleth didn’t dare move, afraid that the rustling of his chains would alert someone. But was he relieved or terrified that he’s being taken away from this mansion, from all the cruelty he’s endured for the last two months? Where were they taking him? What if the baron saw them?

What if he was going to be taken somewhere even _worse_ than this awful place?

His heart was beating harder now, and he could hardly breathe. He was still shaking, completely unable to stay still and unable to hold back his mounting panic. He overheard the burly man holding him whisper something to one of his companions, and felt him wrap his hand around the length of chain connecting the collar to the cuffs to keep them from rattling any more than they were. They were getting pulled on, but now they were silent.

Byleth couldn’t hold back a small, silent whimper.

The group turned a corner, towards where Byleth recognized as the grand staircase of the mansion. They stopped.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” a guard shouted from elsewhere upstairs.

“Fuck!” someone in the group snapped. “ _Run!_ ”

… Was that voice… familiar?

Byleth gasped as the group bolted down the staircase. One of them punched a guard. Another stabbed a guard in front, who tried to stop them. Clearly, nothing was taking these kidnappers down.

“Shit, shit, _shit-_ “ someone in the group growled. “Go! Come on!”

The front door was kicked open, and Byleth’s ears were instantly filled with the icy howl of the wind, the cold hitting his exposed skin so suddenly that he let out a choked cry. The group didn’t stop. The cobblestones of the front drive of the mansion changed to the wet dirt road that lay beyond the gates. Byleth could hear their boots pounding along the ground as they ran. And he could hear the guards pursuing them.

He heard them make a sharp turn, somewhere into the pine forest. There was something hidden away here. A door was opened, and the burly figure stepped close to it.

“Set him down. Careful, now!” said the first voice.

“I _am_ being careful!” the burly figure snapped.

Byleth thought for sure he recognized that voice… He was lowered down off of the figure’s shoulders, onto some kind of wooden surface. A wagon, maybe? He heard a few of the group climb inside with him, pulling him a little deeper into the wagon.

A loud _thunk_ hit the outside of the wagon, making him flinch.

“Shit! Get us out of here!”

“Right! Come on, boss!”

There was another _thunk_ as the burly figure and someone else shut the back of the wagon. Byleth realized they were arrows. The guards were trying to kill the group of kidnappers. Before another arrow could hit the outside of the wagon, he heard a loud “Hyah!” from outside, and two horses began to gallop, pulling the wagon along. They were fleeing through the forest.

He was still shaking, from the cold, the pain, and the fear.

“Sorry about this… We didn’t mean to scare you,” that first familiar voice said, strangely softly. The figure was knelt in front of him. “Here… hold still.”

Byleth flinched a little as a gloved hand was drawn close to his head, but he obediently tried to stay still as the blindfold was grasped and slowly pulled off of his head.

He looked up to see a pair of warm green eyes, set into a gentle face, framed by wavy dark hair. A silver earring was on his left ear, and a yellow cloak hung over his left shoulder. He was lit warmly, by two lanterns that hung on either side of the wagon walls. Golden light that made him look almost angelic.

_Oh. Oh, my god._

_Claude?_

The man smiled brightly as he dropped the blindfold aside. “Hey, Teach!” he said. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Byleth still couldn’t stop shaking. He pulled his eyes away from Claude to see who else was in the wagon with them. Removing their dark cloaks and setting them aside, he saw another bright face topped with wild red hair, and a stalwart, chilly face with dark blue hair pulled back. It was Sylvain and Felix.

That was when he realized who the other two voices belonged to, and who he presumed were driving the wagon at this moment. It was Balthus and Yuri.

He glanced between the three of them in the wagon, trembling hard. He struggled to draw in a breath. His collar felt tight again, and he tried to gulp, but all that came out was a choked whimper. All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut, starting to feel sick as he felt the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill out.

Claude’s heart wrenched at the sight. Byleth was trying not to cry.

Instinctively, one of Claude’s hands rested towards the side of Byleth’s head, gentle and reassuring over his hair. “Whoa, whoa, whoa… Hey, hey…” he said softly, doing his best to comfort him. It looked like Byleth was almost having a panic attack.

“Claude, we need to get those chains off him. I can see those marks from here.”

“Not yet, Felix. Give him a minute.”

A few hot tears managed to slip out of Byleth’s eyes, slowly rolling down his cheeks. He was biting down on his lip, holding back a sob, clearly overwhelmed. Claude offered his other hand, and Byleth took it, _clinging_ to him tightly as if he was his only anchor in the whole world. Slowly so as not to frighten him, Claude brought their heads together so their foreheads were resting against each other, very delicately. He ran his other hand down Byleth’s hair a little, trying to soothe him.

“It’s okay, Teach. Do whatever you need to.”

Several long moments passed, maybe a couple minutes. Byleth kept his eyes shut as a few stray tears managed to squirm their way out. Slowly but surely, the tightness of the collar started to go away, and he was able to breathe freely again, the need to let out a sob replaced by just… exhaustion. He was so tired. So cold. There was so much pain. But they were _here,_ taking him far away from that horrible mansion.

He was going to be safe.

“Alright…” Claude said, pulling his head away to look into Byleth’s eyes. “Better now?”

Byleth managed a small nod. There was still some confusion in his eyes as he watched Claude pull out some kind of small metal pins from his pocket, and he handed one to Felix as he made his way over. Byleth watched as Claude took one of his hands, lifting it up so he could stick the pin into the lock of the heavy bronze shackle. He started to futz with the lock.

“Probably wondering how we found you, huh?” Claude said with a smile, in that playful, cunning way he always did. “Well, Dimitri recruited us. Said you were in some awful trouble.”

“Most of us were in hiding or whatever,” Felix intervened as he picked at the lock of the collar. “Too many empirical assassins and political messes and all that shit.”

Then, Sylvain piped up with a grin. “So, we dropped everything and came to get you!”

Byleth could hardly believe it. Somehow, Dimitri had arranged for his old friends to risk everything to rescue him from Baron Crystoll. How he’d managed it, Byleth had no idea. Perhaps luck was just on their side, and just a little bit of crazy bravery.

Dimitri… _saved him._

The collar let out a sharp _click_ , and the pressure on his throat instantly lifted.

“There,” said Felix. “I got this one open.”

At first, Felix opened the collar quickly, using both hands to try to lift it away. Byleth felt a sharp pull at his skin, like the bronze had rooted itself to his flesh, and he couldn’t hold back a weak cry of pain and a gasp. That made Felix freeze. Byleth could feel something warm slowly oozing its way down to his collarbone. Blood?

“Oh, _yikes…_ ” Claude breathed, wincing. “That looks… really bad.”

“ _Royally_ bad,” Felix agreed. “We should, uh… take them off slowly. We rip them off and it’s just gonna make it worse.”

“Got it. Sylvain, can you dig up some water and bandages?”

Sylvain nodded, trying to hold back his nausea at the sight of the young professor looking so small and helpless and exposed. “Yeah. I think we’ve got some kind of medicine for that, too…”

Doing his best to stay still and not flinch, Byleth waited patiently as the bronze cuffs were carefully peeled away from his chafed skin. Marks had been rubbed raw by the heavy metal, reopened and bleeding and dried up, making an awful ring of irritated red around his wrists and neck. Going easy, Felix managed to lift the collar away. His skin hurt so much it throbbed, but the weight of it was finally _off._ Byleth’s eyes shut, and he hung his head in overwhelming exhaustion, letting out a sigh of well-needed relief.

He heard Felix let out a soft, small chuckle. “That must feel a lot better already.”

Now that Claude had finished peeling away one of the bronze cuffs from Byleth’s wrist, he gently took hold of his other hand and promptly stuck the pin into the lock. “Okay, we’re almost done. Hang on a little longer?”

Byleth nodded a little.

“That’s great. You’re doing really good.”

It felt strange for Claude to be talking to him like this, to ignore all the animosity between his friends and the Empire, and to instead _drop everything_ to go on a risky rescue mission just for him. Now, he was speaking to him as if he was an injured, frightened child. Well, he certainly felt like one. Not used to being handled so carefully in light of his pain, he was too tired to reject it. Claude’s voice was too comforting.

While Claude worked on getting the last shackle off, Sylvain handed a cloth and one of the canteens of water to Felix. In turn, Felix dampened some of the cloth with the water, and began to delicately dab at the angry, bleeding ring around Byleth’s neck. That earned a small flinch and a whimper, but was quickly followed by a small sigh of relief. The water was helping soothe that burning ache.

“Found it!” said Sylvain, holding up a small canister of a medicinal balm he’d dug up from one of the bags shoved into the corner of the wagon. “I knew it was a good idea to bring this along. Mercedes was right.”

“She’s _always_ right, Syl,” Felix quipped. He held out his hand to take the canister. “Give it here.”

A few moments later, Byleth felt something greasy and instantly soothing be gently dabbed onto his neck, from Felix’s fingertips.

“Wow. This stuff must be good,” said Felix. “You look ready to fall asleep right now.”

Byleth _did_ feel like that. The pain was going away, as was that horrible adrenaline rush. His heart was calm, and while he still felt cold, his body was starting to understand that he was safe now, and thus he could breathe easy and let exhaustion begin to take over. But he did flinch again when Claude started to pull away the other shackle on his wrist. He gasped a bit at the pain.

“I know, I know,” Claude said, slowing down. “Just a few more seconds, okay?”

Byleth nodded, stiffening his shoulders a little and focusing on how relieving the medicinal balm was. Felix had finished putting that on his neck, and now was starting to clean the blood from his freed wrist. His mind started to become an exhausted blur, hazy and lost in a void of tired pain and relief, and he didn’t even notice when the final shackle was lifted away, the bronze chains being dropped onto the floor. Somehow, he understood that he would never have to wear anything like that ever again.

When he opened his eyes, Claude’s hands were reaching towards his neck.

He instinctively tensed, shying away, moving from his place on the floor for the first time since he was set down. Claude froze, his heart wrenching again at the sight.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s alright,” Claude soothed, his eyes ever so gentle. There was something white and round in his hand. “I’m just gonna get you bandaged up, okay? Can’t let those marks get infected.”

Felix had frozen in place, too. They all waited for Byleth’s response. Finally, Byleth relented, sitting still but still trembling. Claude offered him a small smile as he began to carefully wrap the soft gauze bandages over Byleth’s neck, warily so as not to wrap it too tightly. Once it was secured and tied off, he wrapped more gauze over each of Byleth’s wrists. He made sure to cover up all the chafing marks, so the healing balm could do its work, and so no infection would settle in.

Byleth lifted his head to look into Claude’s gentle eyes.

“T-th…” He swallowed, his voice still weak and hoarse. Try again. “Th-thank y-y…”

Claude just smiled a little as he reached to the side and grasped one of the dark, heavy cloaks they’d worn at the mansion. “Shh, it’s okay. Rest that voice, Teach.”

Byleth had to only be shaking because of the cold now. To help cover him up in an attempt to preserve his dignity, Claude wrapped the cloak around him like a blanket, tucking it around his shoulders. Shutting his eyes, Byleth reached up and held tightly to the ends of it as he pulled it closer around him.

“There, that’s better,” Claude said, satisfied. “We’ll get you some different clothes soon, I promise.”

Byleth nodded a little, finding himself leaning forwards. Claude was there to stop him from falling over, instead wrapping his strong, gentle arms around him and pulling him close to his chest, so Byleth could let all that tension finally go. He wasn’t shaking anymore. Sitting back against the wall of the wagon, feeling the brief rattle of the wheels as the wagon kept moving throughout the forest, Claude finally let himself relax. Felix and Sylvain, relieved by the faded adrenaline rush, sighed at the same time. They were safe now.

Claude ran his hand over Byleth’s hair again. “You warm enough?”

He felt the shift of Byleth’s head. He was nodding.

“Okay. Try to get some sleep, Teach.” Claude shut his eyes and held Byleth a little tighter, to offer some more comfort. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

_I know a cold as cold as it gets_

_I know a darkness that’s darker than coal_

_A wind that blows as cold as it gets_

_Blew out the light of my soul_

_Blew out the light of my soul…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: depictions of abuse, mentions of sexual assault, very mild depiction of a panic attack
> 
> It's gonna get WAY easier from here on out! The worst of it is just about over! ....Until far later, that is. Hehe.


	16. Fugitive Life Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang starts to take the long way out of Faerghus.

_“Get up, you ungrateful brat. I’m going to show you the meaning of obedience.”_

_P-please, no, I can’t…_

_“Come on now, slave boy. Be good, and I won’t pull on that collar as hard.”_

_S-stop! That hurts!_

_“It’s supposed to hurt, you useless slave! Make it easier on yourself and do what I say.”_

_…Yes, m-master…_

_“Good boy.”_

Byleth’s eyes shot open, a sharp flinch racking his body. It took him several long moments to remember where he was, and who he was with. The wagon was still moving, though not as frantically.Thin, milky light spilled through the cracks of the wood, revealing that morning had come. His head was resting against someone’s leg, a warm cloak wrapped around him. He felt a gentle hand resting on his shoulder, and another hand laying itself on his head, gently stroking to calm him. He realized he was shaking.

“Hey, you’re awake,” said a soft voice.

_Claude._

It was at this moment that Byleth realized it was Claude’s leg he was resting his head on, and it was Claude’s hands that were laid upon him, a comforting weight atop his hair. He wasn’t shaking as bad now, now that the fright of his nightmare was fading.

“Are you okay?”

Byleth nodded a little. “Y-yes…” he said softly, his voice still a bit hoarse.

“You sound a little better!” Claude said, seeming quite pleased. “C’mon, sit up, you should have some water.”

With his gentle hands, Claude helped Byleth sit up, keeping the cloak tucked around his shoulders. Byleth shivered a little, not yet having the strength to stretch. Claude reached for something and handed it to Byleth, who realized it was a water canteen. He took it, thankfully finding the cap already unscrewed, and took several gulps from it. His throat felt instantly soothed.

Claude let out a soft laugh. “Heh, slow down a bit there. We’ve got a limited supply.”

That was enough to make Byleth stop, even though he knew he could drink more. He set the canteen down and shyly glanced up at Claude. “S-sorry…”

Claude offered him a soft smile. “Hey, it’s okay. You drink all you want. We’ve just gotta keep an eye on how much of our supplies we’re using up. We’re not gonna be able to get more for a few days yet.”

A bit relieved at Claude’s reassurance, Byleth took another swig from the canteen. “W-where are we going?”

“To the old empire territory,” said Felix, from the other side of the wagon. “But until we’re safely past the northern regions of Faerghus, we won’t be making frequent stops.”

All the way to the Empire.

It’s a long way to go when you’re on the run.

Byleth hesitated, fidgeting with the cap of the canteen. “…What about Dimitri?”

“The boar?” Felix let out a laugh. “He’s gonna stay in Fhirdiad to cover up our tracks. We take you back there, and we’ll all be tried for treason against the Church.” He sat back against the wall, resting his hands on his knees. “If the archbishop did all this to you just for standing with the Empire, there’s no telling what she’d do to us if we got caught.”

Byleth felt sick. He shuddered, tugging the cloak tighter around him and looking away.

Reaching over to lay a reassuring hand on Byleth’s shoulder, Claude shot Felix a look. “You’re scaring him.”

“I’m just laying out the risks.”

“That’s not what he needs to hear right now, you grape. Can you try to be a little positive?”

Felix let out some kind of baffled noise. “ _Grape?_ ”

Sylvain laughed and gave Felix a light jab in the shoulder. “Yeah, come on, Felix. Let’s just focus on getting where we need to go and worry about the details later.”

“Heh, couldn’t have said it better myself,” Claude said with a smile.

Byleth glanced towards where he knew Balthus and Yuri were driving the wagon. Somehow, he understood that with all of them sticking together and not stopping for some days was going to keep them safe. At least, as safe as they could be for now. But he couldn’t help but worry about Dimitri. If he had arranged for Claude and the others to rescue him, then what would become of Dimitri if the archbishop found out what he did?

If she was able to easily find out about Dimitri’s love for him…

… then who was to say she wouldn’t be able to discover how far his love would go?

Byleth shut his eyes, tucking his knees up to his chest and holding onto them tightly. He couldn’t think about how bad it could end up. He had to focus on making it better. Or, at the very least, staying with those who intended to protect him.

“Hey,” Claude said softly, gently rubbing Byleth’s shoulder. “We’re gonna be alright.”

Byleth just managed a nod.

It was Sylvain who spoke up next. “Oh! Now that you’re awake…” He rummaged one of his bags for a few moments and pulled out some wads of fabric. “Here, you should get changed out of those poor excuses for clothes that baron had you wearing. You can wear some of my spare stuff for now.”

He handed the clothes off to Byleth with a little smile, and Byleth took them, nodding at him gratefully. It was just a relatively simple long-sleeved tunic and warm trousers, but they’d do.

It was around midday that Yuri let them know from outside that they were traveling close to Fhirdiad now, so they had to be extra quiet. Claude quietly reassured Byleth that they were nowhere near the main roads, instead finding their way past the city through the thinner pine forests. There was of course the risk of running into bandits, or the odd guard patrol, but it was far safer than going any closer to the city. Despite all of Claude’s reassurances and the gentle quiet of the road, Byleth couldn’t help but tremble in fear.

Still, he felt a lot more comfortable now that he wasn’t wearing that terrible skimpy outfit or his chains. They took a couple of hours to pass by the city, and for most of the time, Byleth leaned on Claude’s shoulder, holding onto his hand.

“It’s alright,” Claude would say every once in a while, if Byleth got shaky again. “We’ll keep you safe.”

Sometimes, Byleth found his mind drifting towards the city… thinking of what Dimitri could be doing at this very moment. Probably worrying about him, hoping that the rescue mission he arranged was a success. Judging by how Dimitri had looked at those meetings (well, whenever Byleth could muster up the courage to look at him), it was clear that the king was just as distraught as he was. Byleth couldn’t imagine how horrible he must feel, what kind of sickening anxiety has been ravaging at his body for the last two months.

Byleth shut his eyes tight, snuggling up a little closer to Claude’s side.

_Sothis, if you can hear me… Please let Dimitri know I’m safe._

_Just until I can tell him myself._

He fell asleep at some point, miraculously. By then, they were far away from the city, and evening was fast approaching. It had already been almost a whole day since they fled from Baron Crystoll’s mansion; if all had gone well, anyone who the baron had sent to track them down must have lost their trail by now. With all that in mind, and knowing they were on their way to the Tailtean Plains, Byleth rested relatively easy.

In the evening, the entourage stopped nearby a ridge to hide below, so they could all eat together and arrange who was going to drive next. It was good to be with Yuri and Balthus again, who didn’t seem to have changed a bit since Byleth last saw them. However, Byleth was very quiet, just sitting cross-legged in the grass outside the wagon and tentatively nibbling at his food, not seeming very hungry and instead seeming lost in thought.

Balthus, who was sitting next to Byleth in their little circle on the grass, leaned over a bit. “You gonna finish that?” he asked, referring to Byleth’s half-eaten food.

“Give him some time, Balthus,” said Claude, who was sitting at Byleth’s other side. “He needs his strength.” Claude gave Byleth a little smile and a wink of encouragement.

Byleth wanted to smile back, to somehow give him a sign that he wasn’t an emotionless professor anymore, to show him that now that he was free, he was going to be okay. But he just didn’t have it in him; instead he just looked back down again. However, he did manage to swallow down a few more bites. He felt a bit sick, his gut not quite used to having a normal amount of food again, since he wasn’t given a lot to eat while the baron had him. Not wanting to end up throwing up in the wagon, Byleth let Balthus finish off his meal. At least it wasn’t going to waste.

After some time, Yuri was the first to stand up. “We should get moving before nightfall. Syl, Felix, you’re up. You get to fight over which one gets to drive and which one gets to keep the other awake.”

“Ugh, you make it seem like Sylvain and I bicker like schoolboys,” Felix groaned.

“But that’s exactly what we do,” Sylvain pointed out.

From the other side of the wagon, Balthus let out a mighty “HAH!”

After the wagon started moving again, Yuri curled up with some bags in the corner and dozed off, and Balthus snoozed right on the floor, after having been up all night at the driver’s seat. Claude took the opportunity to change Byleth’s bandages and put a little more of that healing salve on his wounds.

Byleth couldn’t hold back a wince as the gauze was pulled away. Leaning in a little, Claude briefly observed the chafing marks on Byleth’s neck, surveying the progress of about one day’s healing. When he straightened up again, he was smiling.

“Looks a lot better,” he said. “You’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Normal?

_Was normal ever enough?_

Byleth just quietly watched as Claude gently dabbed a bit more salve onto the newly exposed wounds, and as he delicately wrapped them up in some new, clean gauze. He hadn’t realized how weary his eyes looked until Claude peeked up at him, a sympathetic look on his face.

“Look, Teach…” he began softly. “I know you’re really worried about Dimitri…”

Byleth looked up to meet his gaze, his gut instinctively tensing at the sound of his name. The name of that broken man who had offered him his heart. As if sensing this, Claude ran his hand along the back of Byleth’s hand to soothe him.

“But listen- if I know that guy, he’ll be able to handle himself. It might be a rough going for a while, but he’ll get back on his feet in no time. Plus, he’s got Dedue to keep an eye out for him.”

Byleth glanced away and nodded.

His companion turned back to his work, wrapping Byleth’s wrist up in gauze. “Dima’s crazy about you, you know that?” Claude let out a soft chuckle. “I could see from his letter how in love with you he is…”

A soft sigh escaped from Byleth. He still couldn’t find any will to smile, but his heart fluttered happily at the thought of Dimitri being that madly in love with him.

With the bandage now tied off, Claude gave Byleth’s hand a squeeze. “He’ll find his way back to you,” he said. “I know he’ll figure out something.”

Byleth shut his eyes, nodding a bit.

“You wanna get some sleep?”

“…Yeah.”

The forest north of the Tailtean plains was blessedly quiet that night, and so provided four of the six fugitives a pleasant silence to slumber to. Nothing but the crickets, the creak of the wagon wheels, the horses walking, and a gentle spring wind. And with this wind came the promise of danger, high risk,companionship, and adventure; not the kind of adventure that ends in a mighty battle and a glorious coronation… but perhaps a peaceful ending, one where they can live without a church or a war looming over their heads. One where they could live freely. One where lovers can be as they have always been.

Byleth’s dreams were filled with Dimitri’s voice calling his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: mild mention of sexual assault


	17. Masked Brigands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief return to Dimitri.

The city of Fhirdiad was quiet.

Dimitri had lost track of how many days it had been since he sent that letter to Claude. Knowing he couldn’t risk trying to track them down, he had no way to know if Claude had gotten the letter at all, and even if he did, there was no guarantee he’d go through with what Dimitri had asked of him. He’d had a feeling that Claude would do it, but then again, the war had changed them all. With no reassurance and no way to find out if the mission had been launched… Dimitri found himself feeling antsy.

Every night, he found himself weeping in front of the fireplace again, his head filled with pitiful, begging prayers to the goddess.

_Keep them safe. Protect them as they get him out of that awful baron’s mansion. Guide them all to somewhere far away, where Lady Rhea cannot find them._

_Let him be free._

Two days before the next council meeting, which Dimitri definitely dreaded, his quiet subconscious was greeted with a dream. However, this one was not a nightmare. Not like any nightmare Dimitri had ever had before.

Byleth stood before him in his dream, perfectly still, bathed in an ethereal pale green light. He was dressed in simple white clothes, interrupted by soft white bandages over his skin. His head tilted up, and Dimitri looked into his eyes. Byleth was crying. Silvery tears slipped down his cheeks, freely spilling from his eyes.

But he was smiling.

That soft little smile that gave Dimitri all the salvation he needed… it made Dimitri freeze. He stepped forwards, trying to move out of the shadows, reaching forwards to touch Byleth’s hand. He had to hold him, to pull him into his arms and kiss him until morning came, until his soul was finally cleansed by Byleth’s gentle, innocent love. Byleth lifted his hand, and their fingers only brushed for a moment-

And Dimitri’s eyes opened.

Dawn had come, and with it, a few gentle rays of sunshine, just for a few minutes, before the clouds covered them again. Dimitri lifted his head, his back sore from sleeping in front of the fireplace again, but somehow feeling more peace within him than he had in many weeks.

The dream had been a sign. It had to be.

Did Claude really go through with it? Did he and a few old friends gather together to rescue Byleth and take him far away?

Though Dimitri had no logical way to know… the dream had been more reassuring than he could have hoped for.

The next meeting came quicker than Dimitri felt it should. He was far more collected this time around, retaining a kingly composure despite his constant anxiety, and growing apprehension for seeing the archbishop and the baron again. It wasn’t raining today, thank goodness, but the streets were still damp and chilly from the other day’s rain. Dimitri managed to swallow down his nausea, doing his best to keep that dream in the back of his mind. It had to be enough to keep him going for today.

As he stepped into the hall, his gaze fell upon Baron Crystoll. He immediately realized that Byleth was not accompanying him this time. And the baron looked uncharacteristically irritated.

Archbishop Rhea picked up on this as well as she took her place at the council table. “Baron Crystoll, something is a little different today, is it not?” she asked, her eyes quite chilly. “You’ve left your prize home today.”

The baron groaned, rubbing his temple. “I was unable to this time, my lady. Some masked brigands broke into my mansion the other night and stole him away into the forest.”

Dimitri held down a gasp. Lady Rhea raised an eyebrow.

“Brigands, you say?” she inquired.

“Indeed, my lady. Five of them. None of my guards got a good look at any of them, nor were they able to pursue them for very long.” He groaned again in frustration. “What would those thieves want with a useless slave like him, anyway?”

“Extortion against the Holy Kingdom, perhaps,” Lady Rhea suggested. “It would not be a surprise if they were allies of the Empire. Perhaps this is the beginning of a rebellion.”

“I should hope not,” said one of the lords at the table. “Rebellions are so exhausting.”

“In any case, he’s vanished,” the baron said.

Lady Rhea straightened her shoulders, folding her hands in her lap. “No matter. I should like to launch an investigation for this, in order to rule out whether or not there will be an uprising from our defeated enemies. Baron Crystoll, I’m certain the thieves can’t have gone too far at this point. They will be hunted down and punished, once their trail has been found.”

Dimitri said nothing, but listened closely. Five masked thieves, breaking into the baron’s mansion and stealing away a single slave, leaving no trace and not letting themselves be identified…

So the dream _was_ a sign. It worked. Claude had gotten his letter, and he’d done it.

_Byleth was free._

Now, all Dimitri could pray for was safety for them as they traveled far away. With any luck, the Church would not be able to find them, leaving them able to disappear to somewhere safe. In the back of his mind during the meeting, Dimitri kept offering a few prayers to the goddess, and was trying his damndest to think up a way to track down where Claude was going to take Byleth. He had to see him. He had to see for himself that Byleth was safe and free and _healing._

Not yet. He had to wait.

He couldn’t let Lady Rhea find out.

He couldn’t imagine what she would do if she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings for this one! Sorry for the shorter chapter, there wasn't much else to add!


	18. Fugitive Life Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fuck the archbishop for enslaving you, and fuck the Church for letting her do it."

Two days had passed since the icy night when Byleth was taken from Baron Crystoll’s mansion.

Now safely through the forest, the small band of fugitives took to the Tailtean Plains, and were now out in the open. To be safe, Yuri and Balthus, who driving the wagon now, were covered up in a couple of cloaks in order to disguise them from anyone else on the plains.

As far as Byleth could tell, they were all by themselves on this wide-open space south of the city. Relieved at their solitude, he did his best to breathe easy. But, being out in the open like this was… unnerving. It would be far too easy to get ambushed like this. Far too easy to be surrounded and overtaken by bandits, or soldiers, or knights. It would take most of the afternoon to travel safely over the plains, in order to slip across them quietly and not make too much of a disturbance, leaving Byleth trying to occupy his thoughts with something other than his worry.

Claude’s arm around his shoulders was a wonderful comfort to have, though.

After some time after entering the plains from the forest, the small sliding window separating the inside of the wagon from the driver’s seat slid open. Yuri peeked inside.

“I don’t mean to alarm any of you,” he said quietly, “but we're approaching a group of patrolling Kingdom soldiers. Stay quiet and try not to be conspicuous.”

Byleth instantly tensed, drawing in a quick breath. Sylvain and Felix glanced at each other, worried but ready for anything. Picking up on Byleth’s fear, Claude held onto his hand and squeezed his shoulder a little.

“How many are there?” Claude asked.

“Not too many. Maybe a dozen, with a couple of them on horseback,” replied Yuri. “If they stop us and try to do an interrogation, I’ll handle it. Don’t talk. Don’t make a single noise at all. Got it?”

The four of them nodded. With that, Yuri shut the sliding window.

They could hear the hoofbeats and footsteps of the approaching patrol, from the other direction of the same road they were on. Felix’s hand gripped the handle of his sword, ready to draw it and defend the others at a moment’s notice. Sylvain, to keep himself from fidgeting nervously, had his arms tightly crossed over his chest and sat quite tensely against the wall.

Byleth was almost too afraid to breathe. He held tightly to Claude’s hand, trying his best to keep his hands from shaking, and biting down on his lip to keep from letting out a terrified whimper.

What if the soldiers questioned them? What if they recognized Yuri and Balthus? What if one of them accidentally made a noise, tipping off the soldiers that there were fugitives of the Church hiding inside the wagon? What if they’d arrest all of them? What if all five of his rescuers were to be executed? What if the soldiers took Byleth back to Lady Rhea, who would order her knights to take him back to Baron Crystoll?

What if Baron Crystoll would treat him even _worse_ than before because he dared to be rescued?

_No, no, please, I can’t do this again- I can’t be a slave again- I can’t bear to see Dimitri’s face when he’s so heartbroken-! I’ll do anything to not go back to that baron… I’ll take my own life if they try to take me back to him-!! I swear I will!_

Claude held Byleth a little tighter. Having snapped out of his thoughts, Byleth looked up at his friend through his eyelashes, afraid to move his head even slightly. Claude gave him a look as if to ask if he was alright. In response to this silent question, Byleth just squeezed his eyes shut and slowly took in another breath. He was holding so tightly to Claude’s hand he was starting to be afraid he’d break it.

Well, he didn’t have a Crest anymore. And thus, no magical strength to accompany it.

No bones would be broken today.

“Off on a holiday?” an unfamiliar voice called from outside. Must be one of the soldiers.

“You bet,” Yuri answered casually. “Southern Faerghus is wonderful this time of year.”

“Indeed. Travel safe, now. I hear there’s masked brigands lurking about in these lands. If you see a group of five thieves, you let any soldier of the Kingdom know. Rumor has it they’ve stolen something quite valuable from one of the northern barons.”

Byleth froze. The stolen valuable was _him._

“Understood, sir. We’ll keep an eye out,” said Yuri.

Finally, they heard the patrol heading off, on the road that led to the city, while the wagon continued down the road leading southwards. As soon as they seemed far away enough, all four of the occupants of the wagon let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Whew,” Sylvain breathed, rubbing the back of his head. “Good thing they didn’t ask to see inside the wagon, am I right?”

Felix relaxed against the wall of the wagon and released the hilt of his sword, his hand having gripped it so tightly his hand shook as he rested it against his leg again. Likewise, Claude relaxed, too, but didn’t let go of Byleth’s hand or remove his arm from around Byleth’s shoulders.

“We got lucky this time,” Felix said, his tone as sour and icy as ever. “Don’t let your guard down. Any of you. Even when we get to our destination in the empire territory. The eyes of the Church could be everywhere.”

Claude rolled his eyes a little. “You’re talking as if we don’t know the kind of risk we’re taking here. Why do you think we all went through with this in the first place?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Sylvain offered, a bright smile on his face. “We did what Dimitri asked and got Byleth free, and we’ll see it through to the end. No matter what it takes.”

Byleth fidgeted a little in place, lifting his head from Claude’s shoulder.

“Actually…”

The other three looked right at him. For a moment, Byleth felt even more vulnerable.

“…I- I wanted to ask you guys about that.”

He swallowed hard, a strange sort of guilt crawling its way up his throat; the same kind of guilt he felt when he opened up to Dimitri on the castle balcony that one night all those weeks ago. The guilt of having survived the war that claimed those he had sworn to protect; the guilt that now kept him from smiling or feeling truly safe, despite the fact that he’d been rescued from a house of terrible abuse and humiliating mistreatment. For even now, he was among men he once considered his enemies.

“…Don’t you all hate me?”

That seemed to take the three men aback. Even Felix stared at him, confused.

“…What do you mean?” Sylvain said, tilting his head to the side.

Byleth looked down, to his trembling hand that was still being gently held by Claude’s warm hand. He couldn’t bear to look any of them in the eye. “T-the war. I fought against you. I and the others in the Black Eagle Strike Force tried to kill all of you.” He shut his eyes, unable to hide how much he was shaking. “…How can you forgive me after that?”

For a long moment, they didn’t answer. Claude gave Byleth’s shoulder a little rub, trying to reassure his doubt. Felix glanced away, wrestling with his thoughts, and Sylvain exhaled through his mouth, looking quite uncomfortable. When Felix looked back up into Byleth’s eyes, Byleth couldn’t help but shiver at the freezing cold look in his eyes, like a storm ready to explode.

“We _didn’t_ forgive you,” Felix hissed. “Or, at least I didn’t. But whether or not you fought with Edelgard and how we feel about it doesn’t matter.”

Byleth blinked. “…It doesn’t?”

“No, no, of course not,” Claude said, and Byleth could hear his gentle smile in his voice. “You were in a pretty bad situation, and Dimitri wanted us to get you out of there.” He rubbed the back of Byleth’s hand with his thumb, even daring to lightly nuzzle his cheek on the top of Byleth’s head. “We could see in his letter how much he cares about you. I think knowing where you were and who had you was just… tearing him apart.”

“And he’s our friend,” Sylvain added. “So we couldn’t just leave you there.”

Byleth suddenly felt very cold at the thought that had just entered his mind.

“D-did you see him? The baron, I mean…”

Felix scoffed. “That drunken prick? Yeah. Fucking idiot was passed out on the floor on our way out. I gave him a good kick in the nose for good measure. He was so drunk that even _that_ didn’t wake him.”

Sylvain took in a breath to steel himself a bit. “Yeah, um… Seeing him hurt you like that just kind of solidified what we were doing.” He looked up, right at Byleth, and there was suddenly a very serious look in his eyes. “Lady Rhea’s punishment for you was… beyond sickening. Whether any of us forgive you or not…” He shot an uncharacteristically sour look towards Felix. “…I think we can all agree you didn’t deserve that kind of fate.”

Claude let out a little hum of agreement, and even Felix nodded.

“Besides, it’s not like any of us can hate you too much, even if we wanted to,” Claude interjected. “You were fighting for a cause you believed in, weren’t you? That’s admirable in and of itself. And it’s all in the past now anyway.”

Byleth felt quite relieved at that idea. To forgive, to forget, to move on despite the pain of the past. Despite the humiliation of your failures.

_“Maybe we can never appease those we have lost. But what if that’s okay? What if the way to atonement is just to be someone better than you were before?”_

Oh, how he longed to hear Dimitri say that again. His very soul _ached_ with the need to hear Dimitri whisper his name, to kiss him until he didn’t feel so empty and cold, to hold him in his arms so his strength would frighten away the nightmares.

Still unable to find the will to smile, even for an instant, Byleth simply rested his head on Claude’s shoulder, leaning into the comfort he offered.

“Thank you…” he whispered. “T-that means a lot.”

All four of them looked up when the sliding window of the wagon opened again to reveal Yuri.

“If I may add something,” he said with a vengeful spark in his eyes, tipping them off to the fact that he and Balthus had likely been listening the whole time, “ _Fuck_ the archbishop for enslaving you, and _fuck_ the Church for letting her do it.”

Sylvain laughed. “If we were at a tavern right now, I’d drink to that.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but even he smiled a little. “Of course you would.”

“Who knows, we just might be able to do that once we get out of the Kingdom,” Claude said. “Another week, probably, then we can afford to relax a little more.”

Byleth quite liked that idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: very brief mention of suicide
> 
> Side note, but right about now marks a year since the art that inspired this fic was posted! Big thanks again to Cosumosu for the inspiration! And the art can be found right here; https://twitter.com/guessibetter/status/1187581519147216898
> 
> Go take a look at what they've been drawing for this year's Whumptober! They draw some amazing stuff!! 
> 
> andImayormaynotsecretlyhopethey'llreadthisficsomedayokaybye


	19. Day of the River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang stops for a swim.

Three days since the night of his rescue.

There had been no one else on the road to the south as the group made their way over the Tailtean Plains, and for that, they were all grateful. Better to be alone in travels than running into strangers, especially when you’re on the run. Once the empty planes were crossed and they made their way into hilly farmland territory, Byleth could feel more and more of his anxiety easing up, leaving just the cold. How fitting that even after everything that’s happened, all Byleth was left with was that cold grip within. The emptiness in his blood and soul where the Crest of Flames should be.

Perhaps the cold was just the inherent horror of his sudden ordinariness.

On that third day, the wagon came to a stop in a small farming village. A river wound through one edge of the town, where idyllic little wildflowers grew at the riverbed. Amidst the smattering of houses separating dusty pathways and small household gardens, there was what seemed to be a humble little marketplace. As Felix stopped the wagon, Sylvain let out a little groan as he slumped on the seat beside him.

“Ugh, can we stay the night here?” Sylvain asked. “My back is killing me from sleeping on wood all this time…”

Felix rolled his eyes. “No. One, this village is too small for a tavern. Two, it’s too risky. We’re resupplying and then we’ll be on the move again.”

Sylvain pouted for a moment, then relented, letting out a sigh as he sat up straight so he could hop off the wagon. “Alright, alright…”

When Claude opened the back of the wagon to step out, Byleth squinted a bit at the sunlight, thin as it was through the clouds. They’d been in the wagon since the previous evening, and the four occupants felt thoroughly stiff. Claude stretched his arms back, sighing happily.

“Ahh, that’s better,” he said. “Come on, let’s all get some air while we resupply.”

With that, he turned and held out his hand for Byleth to take, an encouraging little smile on his face. Byleth looked at him for a moment, hesitant, for a moment almost feeling like a frightened animal hiding inside a wooden crate in an alleyway.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Claude reassured. “There’s no soldiers here. Nobody will recognize us.”

Byleth gulped. “…Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Teach. Come on. The fresh air will do you good.”

Taking in a deep breath, Byleth reached forth and put his own hand in Claude’s. In turn, Claude smiled at him warmly and took a calculated step back, so he could guide Byleth out of the wagon. He wore another spare change of clothes, from Felix this time, and a pair of Sylvain’s spare boots, though the light chill in the air made him shiver despite the warm blue wool his shirt was made of. He straightened up, shutting his eyes for a moment so he could exhale.

“There we go,” Claude said soothingly. “Just stick with me, okay? Let’s go catch up with the others.”

Together, the two of them followed behind the rest of the guys, save for Felix, who elected to stay with the wagon just in case. The village was quiet but quaint, and a few of the people in the marketplace kindly greeted the strange visitors. Byleth suddenly realized that this was the first time he’d really been out in the open since… well, since the last time he and the Black Eagle Strike Force were at the monastery. The times they’d stopped the wagon to briefly rest or to eat their meals together didn’t quite count, since they didn’t have the time to walk around much. Now, in this village, they finally got the chance to stretch their legs and get some air.

As the group of travelers perused the marketplace and resupplied, Byleth’s mind wandered. Upon thinking of the monastery, he was reminded of the day before their final battle in Fhirdiad. It was the last night before he lost his freedom, and thinking of how confident and courageous everyone was in preparation for the invasion was… a bitter thought.

How did it all go so wrong? How did the empirical forces fall so quickly?

He stood awkwardly to the side while Claude, Balthus, Yuri, and Sylvain bickered over whether they should get more dried meat, some fruit, or splurge a little and get both. Byleth didn’t feel the need to say anything. He glanced over at the nearby river, and found himself wondering if there was any good fish in there.

Before he could stop himself, he turned away from the market square and quietly walked to the grassy river bed. He sat down, holding onto his knees, staring into the water. A chilly wind suddenly rustled the grass and his hair, making him shiver a little more than he normally would. It didn’t feel much colder than usual. Still, he found himself lifting his head and closing his eyes, listening to it howl in his ears. Despite the cold, it was… peaceful.

Nothing was colder than the horror of waking up in the dungeon with no Crest. Or the night he was taken from the castle and brought before that horrible, horrible baron…

He didn’t even realize several minutes had passed before he heard someone calling his name.

“Byleth!” It was Claude. He sounded a bit worried. “There you are. Don’t run off like that, you gave me a good scare…”

He swallowed. “Sorry…”

When Byleth looked up, Claude was wrapping a cloak around his shoulders.

“Here, you should be wearing a cloak… It’s getting colder, and you don’t want to get too chilly.”

Byleth pulled his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders, looking back at the river and letting his mind get lost in it.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly. “I’m always cold anyway.”

Claude hesitated to respond. He slowly sat down beside him, resting one of his hands on his knees and looking over at his friend sympathetically. When he spoke, his voice was soft and calm like the river.

“It’s because your Crest got forcibly removed… Is that right?”

Byleth just nodded.

Claude seemed a little stunned to hear that. So the rumor had been true; the rumor that Lady Rhea had indeed taken Byleth’s Crest from him, however that was supposed to work. Claude couldn’t imagine the horror of that moment, whatever kind of _searing_ pain or awful delirium came along with it. Crests are in the blood… so did his blood have to be experimented with? Was he missing too much blood, which was what made him cold? There were too many questions about this…

But Claude chose not to pursue those thoughts. That wasn’t important now. So, he instead elected to lay his hand on Byleth’s shoulder, squeezing gently to reassure him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That shouldn’t have happened to you.”

Byleth shut his eyes and nodded again, grateful for the sympathy.

Some minutes later, Sylvain went over to the river to fetch the two of them.

“Hey, everything’s packed up. We’re all ready to go if you guys are done watching the fishes.”

Claude chuckled a bit. “We’ll be there in a sec.” He looked back to Byleth, rubbing his shoulder a little bit. “You ready to get back in there?”

“Yeah.”

And so, off the travelers went, back on the road towards the old empire territory. As relieving as it was to be back in the safety of the wagon, away from any prying eyes, Byleth quickly found himself missing the wind, and the semblance of true freedom it helped him start to feel. The cold didn’t matter, nor did the emptiness; he was finally starting to feel like he had his freedom back, or at least as free as he could be while on the run with his friends. Until he could feel the wind again, that was what he had to focus on.

Knowing a truer freedom was coming was enough to keep him going.

~

In the forest north of the Oghma Mountains, the group of fugitives was starting to feel a bit filthy. Seven long days of grueling, near-non-stop travel was grating on all of them, even for Byleth, who for safety’s sake didn’t even get a chance to sit up front to get some air, instead being cooped up in the wagon the whole time like was actually the case. Needless to say, not only was the whole gang in need of some proper stretching and fresh air, but also in dire need of cleaning off.

By the grace of the goddess, they assumed, the northern regions of the forest were empty of anyone else, even during the first long day of travel through it. It was safe to assume that these forests were generally avoided by most, and for that, they were grateful. They had plenty of supplies to last them for a while.

When they were deep in the forest after having ridden into the afternoon, Sylvain noticed a quiet river cutting through the woods beside the less-treaded road they were upon.

“Hey, Fe,” he said, poking his companion’s shoulder on the seat beside him.

“What.”

“Let’s stop here. I think we all need a good rinse, and that river looks awfully tempting…”

Felix rolled his eyes a little. “Not a chance. We need to get to the border as quick as we can.”

“Oh, loosen up, will you?” Sylvain urged, slumping back against the wagon. “We’ve been alone in this forest for miles. Surely there can’t be any danger in chilling out here for a few hours.”

“We can’t afford to ‘chill out,’ Sylvain. Do you have any idea how easy it could be for somebody to recognize us? We’d all be arrested, Byleth would be taken back to that _monster_ they call a baron, and Dimitri would probably be painted as a traitor and thrown in prison with the rest of us. Do you want to rot away in some frozen cell for the rest of your life?”

Sylvain blinked. “Yeesh, you don’t have to get so grim. I’m just saying, we’re all pretty stressed out right now. We could use a little time to recuperate, and this seems as good a place as any for now.” He chuckled. “Plus, going this long without bathing isn’t doing us any favors.”

The shorter man beside him let out a defeated sigh after a few moments. “Okay, okay, fine. Shut up. Put it to a vote with the others.”

Sylvain promptly grinned and opened the sliding window to peer in. “Hey, you guys up for a swim?”

“Hell yeah, pal!”

“Heh, sure, why not?”

“Great idea! I could go for that.”

“Uh… okay.”

Stopping the wagon, Felix groaned. “Well, the majority has spoken. You win, Sylvain.”

A few minutes later, the wagon was comfortably tucked into a clearing just off the road, with Felix and Sylvain working together to make sure the horses would be fine for a little while. The back of the wagon was open, with the four occupants having hopped out to stretch for a few moments, all except for Byleth. He sat on the edge, eyeing the river from afar, his eyes calm but otherwise unreadable.

Sylvain suddenly threw his gloves aside and started to make for the river, shedding his armor and his shirt as he went. “Last one in the water gets to clean up after the horses!”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Balthus yelled, following suit. “You got a head start!”

Felix seemed to be taking his sweet time heading down to the river bed, but Yuri chuckled softly and started jogging after the other two. Claude was about to follow, but turned back to his friend before he did.

“You coming, Teach?”

Byleth looked up at him and didn’t answer for a moment. “Yeah. I’ll be right behind you.”

Having rid themselves of their armor and most of their clothes, five of the six men had gotten into the water and were already starting to splash at each other like schoolboys. Felix had seen it fit to bring over a few buckets, clean rags, and luckily some soap to clean themselves off with, for a situation in which six men stayed in close proximity to each other in the same place for several long, tiring days did not make for the most pleasant of smells among them. The river was wide, but calm and shallow, and they could easily stand to a little past their waists right in the middle of it.

When Byleth finally got up and headed over to the river bank, he registered that Sylvain, thoroughly soaking wet by now, was trying to convince three of the other guys for a game of chicken. For a moment, they seemed young again, like this wasn’t during a bitter, messy time following an even messier war, and was instead a charming little trip between busy class schedules at the Academy. Like there was no sign of a war coming. Like dark secrets weren’t revealed.

Like everything was okay.

Byleth had to take in a breath to steady himself.

“Come on, Felix can get on my shoulders and Yuri can get on Balthus’ shoulders!” he insisted, squirting a bit of water in Felix’s direction. “It’ll be fun!”

“You go on and play your silly game,” Felix taunted, his chin held high as he got a rag wet in the water and started to wash his shoulders with it. “ _Claude_ can get on your shoulders. I’m going to be productive instead.”

Claude, who had just emerged from a quick dunk underwater, laughed at Felix’s haughtiness. “Suit yourself, sourpuss. But don’t expect to be included in the rematch when Sylvain and I undoubtedly kick the other two’s asses.”

“O-ho- _ho,_ you wanna bet?” Balthus teased.

Claude looked over at Byleth with a smile, who was perched cross-legged on the grass and hadn’t even taken off his boots or his shirt yet. “Hey, do you want to get in on this?”

Not to Claude’s surprise, Byleth shook his head.

What did surprise Claude, though, was when Byleth took hold of his shirt and pulled it up and off, sliding it off his arms. He stared.

“Huh.”

Byleth’s head shot up to meet his eyes, then looked down at his exposed torso. Claude was looking at his scar. The ugly, marred spider of fleshy pink stretching over where his heart was gently beating; where an unfamiliar heartbeat replaced a Crest stone. Embarrassed and a little ashamed, he glanced away and held his scrunched-up shirt to his chest.

Claude was a bit taken aback, his heart aching. All of them had lots of scars over their bodies from battles long past. And this was the one scar that the Ashen Demon grew apprehensive upon exposing.

He swallowed. “Is that…”

“…how my Crest was taken out?” Byleth said, finishing his thought. He looked up at Claude shyly, almost appearing far younger than he was. Claude entirely forgot that he was technically three years younger than Byleth. “…Yeah.”

Claude’s eyebrows creased up, and he tilted his head to the side, trying to be sympathetic but not wanting to make Byleth think he was being treated like a child. “Look,” he said softly, offering a little smile, “scars are just scars. They’re only marks of what we’ve survived.”

A cold shift took over Byleth’s eyes as he glanced away, but he didn’t disagree.

“Come into the water with us.,” Claude coaxed, offering his hand. “It’s kind of nice, actually.”

Byleth finally looked down into the river water, unfolding his legs to peer into it. Taking one step backwards, Claude still kept his hand outstretched and a soft smile on his face, but Byleth didn’t look up from his own reflection. The longer he looked into the water, the more hesitant he seemed. Something was replaying in his head. A memory he’d tried to shove down. Some awful, wet thing from the depths of his mind was clawing its way up, so harshly and sharply that he started shaking.

He trembled like the ripples in the river.

“Byleth?” Claude called. “Are you… okay?”

After a few moments, Byleth swallowed hard and looked up. “I… I’m okay.” He made no move to get into the water, though. Instead he stood up, took one of the wooden buckets Felix had grabbed, and bent down to fill it from the river.

“You don’t want to get in?” asked Claude, already knowing the answer.

Byleth stood up straight again and shook his head. There was still fear behind his eyes, and his hands still shook a little bit even as he soaked a rag in the water from the bucket, got some soap onto it, and started to slowly clean himself off. He didn’t look up again.

He wasn’t just hesitant to get into the water. He was _terrified_ to.

_Since when was Teach afraid of water?_

Byleth was very quiet during those few hours they spent at the river. Claude and Sylvain did end up taking on Yuri and Balthus to a game of chicken, which ended with the duo of Ashen Wolves as the triumphant victors. Upon seeing this, Felix laughed so hard he almost fell over. The ease of laughter and teasing each other like schoolboys did seem relieving to Byleth, even if he only observed from the shore and couldn’t find it in him to smile with them. Even if he felt so vulnerable and exposed with his scar showing like this.

He found himself wishing he could feel Dimitri’s gentle breath against his scar. His lips laying little kisses along the raised tendrils of scar tissue, as if worshipping every inch of him, like he was some kind of sacred blessing, and not just a failed leader forced to be ordinary after being told to save the world. The safety of Dimitri’s arms and the low, gentle tone of his voice telling him he loved him made him forget all that he regretted. It made him want to look to a future where it was just the two of them, hiding away somewhere green and warm and peaceful, where nothing else mattered except their dangerous union, the sweet innocence of their gentle sin. Where the ghosts of their pasts were silent, where they could fulfill dreams of the future that were far, far simpler.

In all of his longing, Byleth’s only prayer was that Dimitri would be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: brief mentions of trauma
> 
> Once again, I'm sorry if I'm uploading these chapters too fast, but I'm just much too excited!! I'm currently writing Chapter 28. And there's so much more to go!!! I wonder if Ao3 has chapter limits...


	20. The Border

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to enter the empire. Or, what's left of it. The worst is almost over.

Day nine.

The forest was growing a little steeper and rockier, for the group was entering the northern edges of the Oghma Mountains, getting closer and closer to the villages nearby Garreg Mach Monastery. And as they passed through the odd mountainous settlement, tensions grew amongst them. Passing by Garreg Mach was the best way to get to the border of the Kingdom and the Empire; any further west and they’d be inching dangerously close to the wild eyes of the Western Church. So the unanimous decision had been to pass through monastery territory.

For safety’s sake, they were all dressed in simple traveler’s clothes; nothing that made them look like wayward nobility, or ex-noble swordsmen, or wild warriors, or stolen slaves. Even for those on the inside of the wagon, their hair and faces were concealed by the shadows of their hooded cloaks. Better to be hidden and mysterious during a random search rather than immediately recognized.

As the forest started to flatten out again, as it did in an even circle just around the base of the monastery, Byleth recalled that one night in Remire Village; the night that changed everything. He still remembered looking up at the monastery for the first time that morning as they emerged from the green canopy of the woods, accompanied by the three young house leaders at his sides, his father and the knights in front of them.

How was he to know the young lords would be intertwined with his fate so deeply?

One, his student he’d failed.

One, a friend who saved him.

The other, a broken lover.

 _I guess I’m a little bit broken, too,_ Byleth remarked to himself in his head as he curled up into Claude a little closer, his head resting on Claude’s leg again. _How fitting…_

Claude always so easily accepted these gestures; just little signs that his friend needed his comfort. He rested his hand on Byleth’s shoulder, tucking the cloak over a little more and gently rubbing to reassure him.

The window to the front slid open. Sylvain and Yuri were the ones driving now, and Yuri looked in to glance at the others.

“Alright, we’re approaching the monastery,” he said. “Everybody stay quiet. If you gotta talk, stick to whispering.”

The others nodded in affirmation, and the window closed again. Felix, Balthus, and Claude glanced between each other, wordlessly communicating what they were all thinking; memories of a better time. Even Byleth was thinking of their Academy days.

It was so much easier back then. So much simpler. The worst of their worries was just getting to class on time, or whether or not the dining hall was serving their favorite that day, or making sure their weapons were in good enough shape for training, or the odd mission to deal with some bandits. There was bliss in not having to know the Church’s dark secrets, in their own dark sides not having really revealed themselves enough to pose a threat to their friends. They envied the innocence of their past selves. Such dreams in their eyes, such vigor in their reflexes.

Hell, they were only children then. How could they know where they would be five years into the future?

In the midst of the bittersweet recollection of those better, simpler times, Byleth found himself wishing it was safe for them to visit the monastery. There was only one thing he wanted to do; he only wanted to lay some flowers on the graves of his parents, in the tiny cemetery along the outer edge of the cathedral. The last time he was here was some days before the march upon Fhirdiad, and thus, it had been some months since he’d last been able to honor his dead father and mother.

He wanted to let the ground that buried them grow wet from his tears. He wanted to fall to his knees before their graves and beg for forgiveness, for being stupid enough to be captured and let everything be taken from him.

 _I told him I wouldn’t let him down, that I wouldn’t let_ them _down, now they’re all dead and it’s all my fault, I couldn’t save them, I couldn’t save HIM— I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I failed you all—_

“Teach?”

Byleth’s eyes opened. He looked up a bit at his friend, who was leaning over his head and looking at him with concern in his eyes, a common sight when meeting his gaze.

“You okay? You’re shaking.”

Byleth took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, relaxing against Claude’s leg. “I’m fine,” he whispered back. “I, uh… just wish I could visit my father’s grave before we go further south.”

Felix looked like he wanted to say something admonishing and cynical, but he elected to keep his mouth shut. Claude gave Byleth’s shoulder a reassuring little squeeze.

“Maybe one day we can come back here and do that,” he said. “Just sit tight, okay? We’ll be past before you know it.”

Byleth nodded and shut his eyes again.

Maybe once they were past the monastery, they wouldn’t have to think any more about the times they envied and about the innocent young warriors they once were, as if being in the very presence of Garreg Mach haunted them so. They began to believe that being away from it would bring them relief from the ghosts of a time before the war. Perhaps there was some truth to it, in the way they were so close to the place where so much of their defining history together had taken place.

Dizzied by their thoughts, they all stayed silent as the wagon pressed onwards.

Byleth pulled his cloak a little tighter around him, a noble little attempt to ward off the cold.

_I’m almost glad my father can’t see me now._

By some miracle of luck, the group of travelers passed by Garreg Mach without so much as a few glances from some nearby villagers. They did still overhear a few rumors about five rogues who stole something very valuable from a baron of the northern Kingdom, but nothing they didn’t know already.

But it wasn’t over yet.

The following day… it was time to cross the border.

None of them had been looking forward to this. After ten grueling days, they were finally on the verge of crossing into the empire, where their guard could finally let up and they wouldn’t have to take long detours through the middle of nowhere just to make sure no knights or soldiers could track them down. But first, they had to get past the notoriously tight border guards. Ever since the war began its full swing, a wall had been built to separate the most vulnerable borders of the Empire and the Kingdom, with Kingdom guards keeping out any Empire invaders. Of course, it proved to be useless in the long run. But even after the war, the guards were infamously strict. The troupe of fugitives knew this well.

It was late morning by now, on day ten, and they were getting closer to the part of the forest where the wall and the border gate stood. Still dressed in their traveler disguises, the group knew their troubles were far from over. They had stopped for a few minutes in a small clearing to discuss how to proceed, all sitting around in a circle while Claude stood at the back of the wagon.

“Okay… so here’s the deal,” Claude said, mostly to Byleth but also as a reminder to the others. “That night at the mansion, nobody saw our faces or any other defining features. According to the rumors, the only face the Kingdom soldiers are keeping an eye out for is _his._ ” And he gestured towards Byleth. “So with any luck, most of us won’t be recognized.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. “And what about him? If those soldiers see him, we’ll all be arrested on the spot.”

“Couldn’t he just wear a mask the whole time?” Sylvain innocently suggested.

Shaking his head, Claude laid his hands on his hips. “It’s not that simple, Sylvain. These border guards do pretty thorough searches. They won’t be able to tell who we are just from how we’re dressed right now, but a mask on one of us is going to look awfully suspicious.”

“So, then, what do _you_ suggest, O’ mighty schemer?” Felix teased coldly.

That’s when Claude let out a breath and rubbed the back of his head. He looked at Byleth, almost a little nervous and ashamed of himself. “…You’re not gonna like it. But it’s the best plan I’ve got.”

Byleth gulped. “W-what is it?”

Taking his hands and helping him stand up, Claude walked with him to the front of the wagon, which was just the wooden bench and the small sliding window. What Byleth hadn’t noticed before now was a couple of metal hinges along the further edge of the seat, along the wall of the wagon, and a latch in the center of the top piece of wood. The bench had a space on the inside. Byleth watched curiously as Claude lifted up the lid, which was heavier than it looked, and he flashed a small smile at his friend.

That was when Byleth realized that a person could easily fit inside that storage space.

They were going to put him in there.

“…Oh,” he said. It was all he could muster.

“We’ll cover you with some folded blankets and some other supplies to sell the idea,” Claude explained, glancing inside the space. “It’ll be a little tight, but it’ll be safest this way. If the guards do decide to open this compartment, you need to try to hold your breath so the stuff on top of you doesn’t move at all. Do you think you can do that?”

Feeling a little sick to his stomach at the idea of being in an enclosed space like that for an extended amount of time, Byleth shuddered a bit and nodded.

“And it’s just going to be for the inspection. You’re gonna have to be very quiet. Try not to make any noise at all, and try not to move. We’ll do everything we can do hide you effectively, but once we get to that gate, it’s up to you to pretend you’re not there. Okay?”

Byleth didn’t respond for a few long moments. He stared at the open storage compartment, suddenly beginning to compare it to a coffin. A crude coffin made of wood, nailed together, sealing him in the earth with all the students he’d failed, cursed to hear their screams in the eternal flames for the rest of time, it was going to be so tight and suffocating and dark and COLD—

“Byleth?”

He finally looked up to meet Claude’s gaze. Claude was looking right at him, with that same sort of pity and concern as when he was at his weakest moments.

“I…” Byleth took a breath and fidgeted with the bandage on his wrist. “…I don’t think I can do this.”

“You can. I know you can.” Claude walked back over to him, taking his hands and squeezing them gently. He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together; their special little gesture that offered the most comfort. “I don’t mean to back you into a corner, but… this is the only way.”

Byleth shut his eyes. “…I’ll do my best.”

“That’s the spirit, Teach,” Claude responded, and Byleth could hear the smile in his voice.

Some minutes later, the whole group worked together to hide any suspicious things on or in the wagon, including their fearful sixth companion. Armor was hidden deeper underneath their bags, weapons were tucked underneath blankets, and Yuri even provided a little makeup to attempt to adjust everyone’s features slightly, just in case anyone recognized the names and faces of Riegan, Fraldarius, Gautier, Albrecht, or Leclerc. It wasn’t much, but it might make all the difference, as he explained.

Finally… it was time to hide Byleth.

He reluctantly climbed inside the compartment, laying on his side. It was darker and tighter than he expected, the heavy wood not having any cracks in it. Taking note of his apprehension, Claude reached in and squeezed Byleth’s hand, offering him a gentle smile.

“It’ll be okay,” he said softly. “We’ve all got this. Just stay quiet and hang on tight, okay?”

Byleth nodded. “Okay.”

“Alright, good. Go ahead and shut your eyes.”

Byleth did as he was told. A moment later, he felt the prickle of straw along his face and neck, falling over him on all sides. A filler to help hide him without preventing him from breathing, he guessed. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, choosing to say nothing as the straw poked and prodded at him. When they were done putting the straw around him, there was the gentle weight of a folded blanket over his legs, then over his shoulders. It seemed that enough straw hid his head so no blanket would have to be put there. He heard Claude and Yuri debating over where certain items should go; miscellaneous bottles, folded clothes, extra rope. Just more things to hide him with, expertly arranged to look casual.

It seemed like quite a while until they seemed to be finished. Yuri leaned in towards where Byleth’s head was hidden.

“I’m gonna tap the lid by your head twice when it’s time for you to hold your breath,” Yuri explained, his voice low and gentle as always. “When the lid closes and I tap the lid again, then you can breathe again. Got that?”

Byleth swallowed. “Yeah,” he responded, muffled underneath the straw and other items.

“Good, good. See you on the other side, then.”

At the sudden plunge of darkness and the _thunk_ of the lid being set down, Byleth knew it was almost time. His heart was pounding, so hard he was afraid it would be too much for his body to take. All he could hope for was that the border guards would not be able to hear it beating this hard; that they wouldn’t have to look into this compartment at all. It wasn’t even a couple minutes later that the wagon began to move.

It had been bad enough to stay calm while they all snuck past the monastery together. But this was different; Byleth was alone. There were no hands to hold save for his own. There were no calm, warm voices soothing his mounting anxiety.

_Guys, please hurry._

Back on the road to the wall, Byleth’s mind began to spiral through every possible way this could go wrong. Claude, Sylvain, Felix, Yuri, or Balthus could be recognized, which probably wouldn’t be suspicious in and of itself, but still worried him nonetheless. Them being five travelers from Faerghus, the guards could instantly already suspect them of being the thieves who stole Baron Crystoll’s slave. Maybe they should have split up somehow. Worse still, they could look into the compartment, and see his frantic, panicked breathing. They could discover that these fugitives were smuggling someone across the border to the Empire, and even more damning was that the smuggled one was the stolen slave they were looking for. They’d all be arrested, and the baron would be waiting for him in that horrible mansion in the north…

“Halt!” an unfamiliar voice barked outside. “State your business for entering empirical territory.”

The wagon stopped.

“Why, we’re just a few folks on our way to a holiday,” said Yuri, his voice much cheerier and eased than before. “We’ve heard that there’s some very nice spots for fishing in the Empire.”

“Fishing. Mm-hm,” said the guard. A few of them were walking closer to the wagon, on both sides. “How many of you are there?” They were already opening up the back.

“Five. Just me, my good friend Bob here, and in the back we’ve got Cal, Slim, and Francis. Say hello, boys.”

The other four all said a relaxed mixture of “Hey,” “Hi, there,” “How’s it going?”

The head guard said nothing for a moment. “Alright, out of the wagon. Stand right over there while we do our routine search. And you two, off the driver’s seat so we can check in there, too.”

Byleth froze.

“Well, I don’t see why you’ve gotta search so thoroughly,” Yuri responded as he stood up and hopped off the wagon, Balthus following right after him. “All we’ve got on us is all our travel supplies. Clothes, food, and plenty of it because Bob and Slim here have bottomless pits for stomachs, a little bit of drink, some shiny pointy things just for self-defense and such, you know the drill. Ain’t nothing to get in a tizzy over, you know.”

The head of the guards let out an annoyed growl. “Like I said, routine search. Move aside.”

“Alrighty, alrighty,” Yuri said. He patted the top of the driver’s seat. Twice. “Don’t let me get in the way, now.”

Just as agreed, Byleth silently drew in a breath and held it, just in time as the guard lifted up the lid, the hinges squeaking. Laying perfectly still, he could still hear the other guards muttering to themselves as they scanned through the inside of the wagon, and he could practically feel the guard’s eyes looking intently in the storage compartment. He half expected to feel the guard move around some of the items.

His heart pounded. His lungs burned. The guard was going to pull aside one of the blankets any second now. It was all going to be over. This was it.

He nearly flinched when the guard let go of the lid, letting it loudly _thwap_ back in place.

“Alright, we’re all good here,” the head guard said. “Be on your way. And travel safe, now. Word is there’s masked brigands having fled from the north.”

“Well, we’ll let you fellas know as soon as we see any shady folks from northern Faerghus!” Balthus reassured as he hopped back onto the seat.

Yuri followed right after, and tapped his hand on the lid twice.

“Hop back in, boys,” Yuri called behind them. “Empirical fishing awaits!”

Balthus let out an excited whoop as the wagon started moving again a minute later, once the back of the wagon closed up again. And finally, Byleth let himself breathe again, now safely enclosed once more and having just crossed the border, into the lands that were once ruled by Emperor Edelgard and her closest friends and associates.

But his heart was still pounding, his mind still running through all sorts of scenarios that could have already happened or were about to happen. He was shaking so badly. Why wasn’t he calming down?

They rode for some minutes, but it felt like hours, deeper into the forest in the northernmost territory of Adrestia. The forest was quiet, and the road was empty save for them. The border wall was far behind them before long. The wagon turned a corner to tuck itself into a clearing, hidden away by thick canopies of leaves.

Then, it stopped.

The back of the wagon was opened so quickly it seemed almost frantic. One of them headed off down a path, and another rushed up to the front of the wagon while Yuri and Balthus moved off the seat. The lid was lifted up, not by a guard, but by Claude, who was so agitated with worry that he seemed to almost fling all the objects out of the way, slowly but surely freeing Byleth from all the objects he was trapped underneath.

Soon enough, his face was uncovered, and he felt brave enough to open his eyes and look up.

Claude leaned over him from above, choking back the worry in his eyes so he could smile a little and open his arms to his friend.

He took the invitation. Byleth sat up quite suddenly, throwing his arms around Claude’s neck, holding tight as he shook terribly. Claude murmured gentle words to him as he plucked him from the coffin-like storage compartment, lifted him away from the wood, and set him down on the forest floor, gathered up in his arms and held close to his chest. He didn’t dare let go. Byleth was trying so, so hard to breathe, to hold back his mounting tears, to choke back that awful feeling in his gut, to calm his crazed heartbeat that he _still_ wasn’t used to in the slightest.

“It’s okay,” Claude whispered soothingly. “We’re gonna be fine. The worst is over.”

Trembling as he was, Byleth couldn’t help but believe him.

Some moments later, while Claude was smoothing down Byleth’s hair and keeping him held close, they heard Balthus speak up.

“Hey, there you are, squirt! Well, look at you, you haven’t changed a bit!”

Someone laughed. “It’s good to see you, too, Balthus. How long has it—“ They paused.

Byleth took a chance and decided to crack his eyes open, looking up past Claude’s shoulder to see who had arrived. Standing beside Felix in the shadow of the pines was a small figure with silvery hair and gentle jade eyes, a bow and quiver slung across his back. _Ashe._

“Um…” Ashe looked to Felix helplessly. “…Is the professor okay?”

“Not really. We had to hide him in order to smuggle him across the border. Being shut away like that in that bench must have really spooked him.”

Ashe looked stunned at the sight, like this isn’t at all what he had been expecting. Professor Byleth Eisner had once been a courageous warrior for the Empire, and an intelligent teacher, but now… now he looked so small and frightened. For a long few moments, Ashe had no idea what to say. So instead, he chose to crouch down beside them and offer them both a small smile, pure and bright as ever.

“Good to see you, Ashe,” said Claude, stroking one of his hands along Byleth’s back. “Everything’s all ready?”

Ashe nodded, a look of excitement mounting in his eyes. “Yep! I’ve got it all settled. You guys are going to love the place I found for us. It needs a little work, but it’s cozy and well-hidden.”

“Perfect. We could use cozy. I knew we could count on you.”

Ashe glanced towards Byleth again. “Y-you alright, professor?”

Slowly, Byleth managed a small nod. He could breathe easy again, and his heart had finally slowed down. He shut his eyes, leaning his head against Claude’s shoulder as if suddenly exhausted. Claude just held him close, making sure he felt safe enveloped in his arms, not enclosed by wooden planks and random objects.

“I’ve got you,” Claude murmured. “But we’ve gotta keep moving, ok?”

“…Okay.”

“Alright. Let’s get going, everybody.”

Ashe hopped onto the seat with Balthus, and they were already happily chatting while everybody else climbed into the back. Now that the border had been crossed, most of their journey was over, and thus, all the guys were visibly relieved. Even Sylvain quickly phased back into his usual playful jokester self, if only to attempt to alleviate the nervous mood most of them were left with after that harrowing search by the guards.

“ _Slim?_ ” he asked Yuri, grinning and raising one eyebrow. “You couldn’t come up with a better fake name for me, huh?”

Yuri laughed. “Hey, if the fake names were all it took to get us through, then you’re welcome.”

“Not as bad as _Francis_ ,” Felix remarked as he rolled his eyes.

Claude choked back a snort of laughter. “You know,” he said, “It would be fun if we kept those names for a little while.”

He received a sour look from Felix. “No, it wouldn’t.”

“Ah, lighten up, _Francis_ ,” Yuri teased, lightly nudging Felix’s leg with his boot. “You’re the one who keeps sulking about how much danger we’re in. Fake names are a good idea, eh?” He leaned back, satisfied, and crossed his hands behind his head. “I call the name Ringo. And the kid up front- we’ll call him Cricket.”

Felix groaned and dragged his hands over his face.

“Well, that means _you_ need a fake name, too!” Sylvain realized, smiling towards Byleth. “What do you think, _Cal?_ ”

Claude glanced down at Byleth at his side, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He let out a small hum of contemplation before a light came on in his eyes. Byleth tilted his head to the side, wondering what kind of name they’d come up with for him.

“I’ve got it,” Claude said with conviction. “Bodie.”

Byleth blinked several times. “…Bodie?”

“I like it!” said Sylvain. “I was gonna suggest Blue, but your idea is better.”

“How did I manage to get stuck with all you idiots?” Felix growled.

“Because you didn’t want to let your king down,” Yuri said in a matter-of-fact sort of tone, reminding Felix of why they went to all this trouble in the first place. “You’re still here after all this time, silly. If you really did hate us, you’d have bailed out by now.”

Felix stuck out his bottom lip a bit as he glared at Yuri, but said nothing in retaliation.

“I… I’m glad you’re still here, Felix,” Byleth found himself saying.

“Whatever, I—“ Felix stopped himself as he looked up at the blue-haired man in front of him.He stared, astonished. “Hang on, you’re…”

Byleth blinked. “What is it?”

“Byleth, you’re _smiling!_ ” Claude exclaimed.

“I- what?”

Sylvain and Yuri both grinned, pleased at the sight. As if shocked, Byleth put his hands on both sides of his face, almost unfamiliar with this tension in his cheeks. Gods, how long had it really been since the last time he smiled?

“Just wait till we get to wherever Ashe is guiding us,” Sylvain pointed out. “You’re gonna be smiling a lot more, I think.”

Byleth nodded. “Y-yeah. I hope so.”

He thought back to what Ashe had said earlier. Cozy, well-hidden, something of a fixer-upper. While he hoped it wasn’t something like an old fortress or an underground hideout, something in him told him it would be warm and green and quiet. Somewhere they could really rest, without fear of being hunted down by the Church.

He found himself wishing that Dimitri could be there, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: not much, just a mild depiction of a claustrophobic situation


	21. All is Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having rendezvoused with Ashe, the gang makes their way to their hideout; a place they can call home.

For the first time in over a week, the journey was a lot more straightforward.

It had taken them ten long days to get this far, taking back roads and winding through old paths in order to evade running into anyone; whether they were harmless travelers or suspicious soldiers, anyone could spell a most unfortunate end to their escape to the old empirical territory. In addition, to take a longer way out of the Holy Kingdom was yet another way to deter any Kingdom soldiers or knights of the Church from tracking down their trail, seeing as how they would have assumed the thieves would have taken a more direct route to safety.

It was the eleventh day of their journey. Now that the border had been crossed, things started to… smooth out.

They were on the main road leading directly south. Throughout the day, they had been traveling through lush forests and hills, the road well-treaded from many travelers before. There were even a few places that were paved with cobblestones, like when they came to a bridge across a river or a small village. There was evidence of damage from the war that had not yet been repaired, but it was clear that the people who were left here were in relatively high spirits; they’ve already gotten into the swing of this new rhythm of life.

And best of all, it was safer to actually walk outside in the sunshine, alongside the wagon, rather than be cooped up on the inside.

Sylvain somehow managed to convince Felix to join him atop the wagon, perched cross-legged on the flat wood and facing the road. Miraculously, Felix ended up looking quite relaxed, watching the forest as they passed through it. While Claude and Yuri were at the driver’s seat, Balthus was snoozing in the back, leaving Byleth and Ashe to walk together right beside the wagon. They had slowed to an easy pace, now less concerned with taking longer roads.

Ashe was always so easy to be around, even after a war. Devoted to both knighthood and all manners of chivalry that went with it, his gentle soul couldn’t help but be a comfort to Byleth as they walked together.

“When Claude let me know what the plan was, I got down here as quick as I could,” Ashe explained. “There’s a lot of open territory down here these days. Lots of abandoned properties that refugees ran from when the war arrived in these farmlands. So my job was to pick one place where we could all lay low, then meet you guys at the border. Took me a while to find a good one, but I think you’re gonna like it. You still like fishing, right?”

Byleth blinked. He’d barely thought about fishing in the last several months. “Y-yes, but… not for a while.”

“Well,” Ashe said with a bright little smile, “There’s a lake close by where we’ll be staying. It’s so much bigger than that little pond we had at the monastery. You’re gonna love it!”

He couldn’t help but smile at him a little. “That sounds wonderful.”

Ashe smiled right back at him. “Did the last few days go okay? Since you left Fhirdiad, I mean.”

“Oh, I wasn’t being kept in Fhirdiad,” he corrected before he could stop himself. “The mansion they took me from was… m-much farther north than the city.”

Ashe blinked. “Oh.” He looked away, back at the road, regret shadowing over his light green eyes. “I’m sorry… I had no idea where you were. Right after the war ended, I heard a few rumors about what happened to you. What the Archbishop had done to you and where you were taken… But I didn’t believe them… I didn’t think the Archbishop would do something like that.” He shuddered a little. “Not something that… _cruel._ ”

For a long few moments, Byleth was silent. He glanced up at Claude, then back on the worn dirt path in front of them. Finally, he looked back at Ashe at his side.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “That’s behind me now. If it wasn’t for Claude and you guys, I’d… probably still be stuck up north.” He took a breath and glanced away again. “But, to answer your question, the way down here was fine. Nothing really happened.”

Ashe let out a soft chuckle. “Heh, well, better that than something bad, right?” It was Ashe’s turn to pause. “…You looked pretty scared when you got out of that bench yesterday…” he said, quietly and hesitantly. “Were you scared of being in such a tight space?”

It took Byleth a few moments to gather his words. “…Sort of. I think. I don’t really know.” He took in a breath and slowly let it out. “I know I wasn’t like that before.”

“Well, war can change people,” Ashe pointed out. “That is, war and… other things.” He couldn’t bear to name what Byleth had been through, what he had heard rumors about but couldn’t bear to believe. “I guess it changed you, too.”

Byleth nodded, and found no more words to say.

“B-but that’s not necessarily a bad thing!” Ashe added. “It just means you’re different. And that’s okay.”

" _But what if that’s okay?” r_ ang Dimitri’s voice in Byleth’s mind. _“What if the way to atonement is just to be someone better than you were before?”_

Someone better.

Someone probably different.

Byleth couldn’t help but smile a little. He wasn’t the same person who stepped into Garreg Mach Monastery with his father back in 1180, and definitely not the same person who joined Edelgard and the others to march upon Fhirdiad some months ago. And somehow, knowing he had changed this much was a comfort. The previous version of himself had no idea the Church of Seiros had so many dark secrets, and had no idea what was going to happen to him and his students when they stepped into the city gates on that fateful day.

Maybe he really could atone for his failures by embracing his own changes.

If only Dimitri could be here to see him now…

Would he be proud?

Ashe suddenly looked up, a smile spreading over his face like a sunrise. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “We’re almost there!” He pointed up ahead, to where the forest led out to what appeared to be a series of meadows and wooden fences, as he looked up to their other companions. “It’s just past that curve in the road.”

Claude’s face lit right up. “Hey, that’s great! Fellas, our journey is nearly at its end!”

From the top of the wagon, Felix let out an exasperated little _pfft._ “About time.”

Sylvain laughed as he leaned back on his hands. “Come on, we’re not the only ones who are glad we made it here in one piece.”

“I’m gonna go on ahead with the professor!” Ashe said.

“Alright, we’ll catch up with you,” Claude agreed, winking at them.

Byleth realized that Ashe had gently grasped his hand in his and was looking right at him.

“Come on, I want to show you the whole place.”

Before Byleth could respond, the two of them were picking up the pace, not quite walking but not quite jogging either. Almost too suddenly, they breached the edge of the forest, where the dappled sunlight through the branches instantly broke all the way through, shining onto them warmly over the path. The road led downwards, into what appeared to be a small valley between the hills, tucked away in a haven of green fields and blue skies. A wooden fence bordered the road, and it led towards a large property at the end, which Byleth could see much clearer as the two of them approached. Far beyond the road, he thought he could see the tops of some houses, letting him know that there was a village nearby.

Right off the bat, Byleth could see that this lot had been abandoned for some time. Likely no more than a few years, but plenty deteriorated already. Past the fence and an untended yard (within which there looked like the remains of a garden) was a large farmhouse, the paint chipping, the windows creaking, and a few holes in the roof. On the other side was a barn and a couple of small sheds, equally derelict if not more so; it even looked a little lopsided. And behind the house was an idyllic meadow, filled with wildflowers, with a forest just beyond it.

Ashe proudly took a few steps forward, his arms outstretched.

“Ta-da! What do you think?” he said, cheery as ever. “Look at all this space! And it’s all ours!”

Byleth blinked up at the house, the warm breeze ruffling his hair and the fabric of his shirt. He wasn’t sure how he felt about all this yet.

Dimitri had done this for him. Dimitri was the one who contacted Claude and asked him for help, asked him to take Byleth far away from Faerghus and keep him somewhere safe, somewhere far away from where the eyes of the Church could see. And in turn, Claude, three of the Blue Lions, and two of the Ashen Wolves had come together to do as the king asked, risking everything to rescue one man in suffering. And now, finally, they were here; hiding away. Somehow, Byleth had no idea how to thank them all for this.

What if this was too good to be true?

“It’s…” Byleth hesitated. “…a farm?”

“Yeah!” Ashe excitedly answered. “See this old patch here in the yard? I think we can make this into a garden! And whatever we end up growing, we can trade or sell at the village down the road. I checked it out the other day, it’s really nice down there! Heck, if we wanted to, we could even try to raise chickens or goats or something… The possibilities are endless!”

Seven men, once caught up in a devastating five-year war, now becoming simple farmers.

Byleth couldn’t help but smile a little at the idea, almost amused.

“…I like it,” he said.

Ashe grinned, letting out a gentle laugh. “I’m glad! I knew you would. Just wait until I show you the lake!”

“That’ll come later, Ashe!” the voice of Yuri called from behind. The wagon had caught up to them, and was now pulling into the yard. “We should take the rest of the day to get settled in.”

Ashe was already working on getting the exhausted horses unhitched so he could guide them into the barn, and Yuri had gone around the back to wake up Balthus, while Felix and Sylvain hopped off of the top of the wagon. Claude looked up at the house, a hopeful smile on his face, with both his hands on his hips.

“Home sweet home,” he said, grinning over at Byleth.

“Oh, _great,_ ” Felix groaned. “The roof has holes in it.”

“Well, I _did_ say the place was a bit of a fixer-upper, didn’t I?” Ashe offered, smiling knowingly.

“You did, but you didn’t say it was such a _disaster_ like this.”

Balthus, who was well awake by now and carrying one of the bags under his arm, reached over and ruffled Felix’s hair, which earned a disgruntled noise from him.

“Cheer up, Francis!” Balthus laughed. “We’ve got all the time in the world to make this dump feel like home, don’t we? Sure, we’re technically in hiding, but that doesn’t mean we have to pretend we’re not here.”

“ _However,_ ” Ashe said in a reassuring but slightly teasing tone as he clapped Felix on the shoulder. “If you’re worried, there does happen to be a cellar underneath the barn that should be quite comfortable as a bunker of sorts. Anything goes south and we can just hide down there till things blow over!”

Felix’s face quickly went sour. “You really think it’ll be that simple?”

Yuri chuckled as he shoved one of the bags into Felix’s arms. “Sure do, sourpuss.”

As the guys started to explore their new home, Byleth found himself standing still. The wind felt restless, like it was urging him to run even further from the influence of the Church, to get so far away from this land that they would have no possible chance of getting him back. All of that hissed to him in a single wild gust of green summer winds. For a long few moments, he was unsure of where to step forwards.

Then, a small noise startled him. He almost jumped.

He turned, slowly. Perched atop one of the wooden fenceposts was… a cat. The sound had been its meow. It was a large ginger tabby, with big green eyes, peering right at him curiously. And it was not alone. A slender black cat crept around the lower half of the fence, seeming much more wary than the ginger one but not entirely unwelcome to the new company. And there was one more; a very fluffy calico with blue eyes, who was already trotting towards Byleth. Almost as if on instinct, Byleth knelt down and offered his hand to the calico.

The cat fearlessly sniffed his fingertips, as if searching for something to eat.

“Sorry,” Byleth said with a small smile. “I don’t have anything for you.”

The three cats were looking right at him. He stared back.

“Is this your home?” he asked, cocking his head towards the house.

The calico mewed.

“We didn’t mean to intrude. But we do need to stay here awhile. Would that be alright with you three?”

The ginger cat jumped down from its perch and rubbed its head against the black one. As if to answer his question, the calico shut her eyes, rubbing her side along Byleth’s leg, almost like a sign of welcoming these humans. He smiled, carefully reaching his hand down to pet her soft back, and she didn’t oppose his gesture.

“You found the cats!” said Ashe, who just emerged from the barn. “They’re really friendly, aren’t they?”

Claude stepped out of the house, leaning against the door frame and chuckling softly. “Heh, leave it to Teach to befriend the stray cats.” When Byleth looked up at him, Claude extended his hand to him. “Come on, you should come see the house.”

The house actually felt a little bit bigger on the inside. Just beyond the front door was a large room that doubled as both a kitchen and a living room, with a lopsided wooden table and a humble stone fireplace that had definitely seen better days. There seemed to be a couple of adjacent rooms to the main one, like a pantry and a washroom, all thoroughly bare save for some empty shelves and plenty of dust. Next to the kitchen was a relatively steep staircase, which thankfully seemed quite secure. Byleth could hear the voices of a few of the guys upstairs; it seemed to be some kind of loft. Hopefully there would be enough beds left behind for all of them.

“No offense, Ashe,” Sylvain said as he emerged from the pantry, a cobweb stuck in his hair, “but this place really is kind of a dump. How long has it been left like this, anyway?”

Ashe shrugged from where he had set down another bag. “Beats me. It could have been abandoned right after the war started.”

“Certainly looks that way,” Claude added. “But it’s got potential.”

Even though it was the middle of the afternoon and the whole group was exhausted from traveling for eleven days straight, they all worked together to make the place feel a little more comfortable. Apparently, Ashe had only procured the farm a day prior to leaving for the border, after having stayed in the nearby village while searching for a suitable home for them all, and thus hadn’t had time to work on the house at all. Still, most of them were in high spirits as they brushed away the cobwebs, swept most if not all of the dirt and dust away from the floors, and started to put their things in their rightful places, whether it was atop the few beds in the loft or on some shelves. Byleth found it relieving and even a little refreshing to have his hands busy like this, just using a rag to wipe off the dust around the kitchen. Balthus was even whistling some cheery melody as he procured some firewood from one of the sheds and stacked it beside the fireplace.

As the afternoon changed into a golden evening, the three cats from the yard slowly ventured their way into the house. The big ginger cat sat upon the wooden counter, watching Byleth clean out the dusty cabinets, while the other two sniffed out the other six humans. Thankfully, none of them seemed opposed to having a few cats around. Byleth even found them to be a comfort; a semblance of the normality he had at the monastery. Even Felix could be found scratching the black cat behind its ears.

The work began to slow down as the sun set. Ashe and Sylvain had already started to scribble down a list of things they might need for the house, since they were going to be here indefinitely. The more time passed, the more things they thought of.

“Yeesh, I’m starting to think we should have brought more of our own stuff with,” Sylvain remarked as he observed how long the list was getting. “I hope the village has got all this.”

“In our defense,” Yuri spoke up from where he was lighting a few candles, “We did kick off our mission on short notice. Not exactly a lot of time to pack for a vacation with six other fugitives.”

Sylvain scratched the back of his head. “We should have brought one of the girls with us.”

“What, so you could have something to incessantly flirt with?” Yuri teased.

“No, I meant so they could help this place feel a little more like home to us. You know, so they could help us with settling in and stuff. They’re way smarter at this than we are.”

“Bold of you to assume homeliness only comes from women,” Yuri quipped with a grin.

Sylvain made some kind of flustered noise. “You know what I mean!”

A few of the guys laughed, just as Balthus stepped back into the house.

“Hey, I finally got the fire going out front. You guys ought to see the sky out here!”

Night had fallen, and all the stars were out. While the air was cold and still, the bonfire they created in an old fire pit in the front yard was warm, a gentle orange light cutting through the darkness of farmland and surrounding forest. With one of their last bottles of liquor passed around between them and some of the last of their travel food being slowly used up, the tension of their journey finally began to fade away, as the comfort of each others’ presence and the stories of happier times they exchanged began to fill the void that their alleviated anxiety had left behind. They recounted earlier days at the Academy, easier to talk about now that they were safely far away from Garreg Mach. They laughed as they told tales of late-night antics and romantic escapades and training mishaps.

No one spoke of the war, or how it went wrong. Now wasn’t the time.

Byleth, as usual, stayed quiet. He sat cross-legged upon the ground, slowly stroking the ginger cat that had curled up in his lap; a comforting weight atop his legs. He wasn’t even really paying attention to what the men around him were saying. The fire shone in his eyes, and all he could think of was that evening habit he and Dimitri had made together, when secrets were still just secrets, and the eyes of the Church were only an afterthought. When all the salvation they needed could be found within each other.

“ _Ghosts or no ghosts, I’m glad you’re here._ ”

Byleth had to bite back the lump that tried to form in his throat. It hurt too much to think of Dimitri, when the last time he saw him was at that meeting, when he looked sick with worry and horror upon seeing the state of Byleth. When he scurried away early, looking ready to throw up. When Byleth saw front and center what Dimitri’s punishment was doing to him.

Once again, he found himself lifting a silent prayer to the heavens above.

_Sothis, if you can hear me, please let him know I’m safe. Please don’t let him worry._

A moment later, in the midst of his prayer, he saw a hand saving in front of his face. It was Claude. He sat up straight, glancing at the man beside him.

“Hey, you in there?” Claude said with a little smile. “Felix just asked if you wanted to burn those clothes we found you with.”

Byleth blinked. “…We kept them?”

“Well, yeah,” Sylvain chimed in from the other side of the bonfire. “Couldn’t really throw them out anywhere, not unless we wanted to risk leaving a trail behind us.”

“Oh,” Byleth said quietly. He found himself smiling a little. “Then, yes. Let’s burn them.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Yuri added as he stood up to go back into the house. “We ought to find a way to get rid of those awful bronze chains, too. No sense in hanging onto them.”

Byleth couldn’t help but shudder a bit at the mention those restraints, his hand unconsciously rubbing his wrist. They’d taken off the bandages and stopped using the healing ointment a few days ago, but some chafing scars still remained on his wrists and neck, which would likely remain there for the rest of his life. Taking note of his discomfort, Claude reached over from the log he sat atop of and gently rubbed Byleth’s shoulder. Even the cat in Byleth’s lap seemed to notice his tension, lifting its head to peer at him through half-lidded eyes. He gave the cat a gentle scratch behind its ears, and offered a little smile to Claude, a silent gesture to let him know he was alright.

A few minutes later, Yuri emerged from the front door with a scrunched-up bundle of familiar fabric in his hands, looking to Byleth. “Here we go. Found em. You want to do the honors?”

Byleth shook his head.

Yuri shrugged. “Alright, then.” With a dramatic flourish of his arms, he tossed the gaudy fabrics onto the flames, and the fire instantly began to eat away at them. “Begone with you!”

A few of the other guys cheered a bit, and Balthus held up his bottle in solidarity.

Byleth watched the clothes burn, feeling as if a weight was lifting off his shoulders, like the night his chains were finally taken off for the last time. And in that moment, he finally felt like he was really free.

And yet… his heart still ached.

“Claude?”

“Yeah, Teach?”

Byleth hesitated, his hand laying still upon the cat’s back. “…Do you think we’ll ever see Dimitri again?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely,” Claude answered with a nod. “He said in his letter that he’d figure out a way to find us and come down here to see you, once he’s able to avoid any suspicion. It might take a while, since it’s such a long way to travel…”

“Can’t we try to send him a letter to let him know where we are?” Byleth asked.

Claude frowned sadly, shaking his head. “We can’t. The Church could intercept it. Then we’d be screwed for sure.” He turned back to the bonfire and let out a soft little sigh. “I’m sorry, but… all we can do is wait.”

Byleth found himself staring up at the endless stars above them, the fire still warm on his skin and the voices of his friends echoing in his ears. His freedom was restored, but it didn’t feel complete. His heart beat calmly in his chest, and yet it felt empty in its ache, like it was starving for the love he’d only briefly had in that castle. The stars shone as coldly as his soul.

Maybe the cold would never completely go away.

But maybe that was okay.

_Please get here soon, Dimitri. You… you have no idea how much I miss you._

_Until the river’s finally crossed_

_You’ll never feel the solid ground_

_You had to get a little lost_

_On your way to being found_

_\- All is Found_ , Kasey Musgraves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no content warnings this time! just the guys settling in.


	22. Settling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain gets stung by a bee. One of the farm cats is given a name. Mysterious figures are seen in the village.

The house certainly did need a lot of work.

Well, the whole farm did. Still, the guys didn’t complain as they surveyed all the work that needed to be done; this was what they had to do to make the place feel more like a proper home for them all, and they quickly learned that most of them liked doing this kind of work with their hands. And first up on the list was repairing the holes in the roof of the house, along with some additional cleaning and little repairs all over the place.

Since they presumed they weren’t going to be using the sheds much, they took one of them apart in order to use the wood to fix the roof. The hardest part was trying to get themselves all the way up there, even to the slanted part that was only above the first floor. As Byleth and Ashe carried some more salvaged pieces of wood across the yard to the house, they observed Balthus attempting to push Sylvain high up enough so he could clamber onto the roof. Felix had already made it up there easily enough, but had elected not to help Sylvain.

“Urgh- Fe, would you just grab my hand?” Sylvain urged, struggling to get a good hold on the edge of the roof from where he stood upon Balthus’ shoulders.

“You can figure it out,” Felix replied. He was taking a few of the salvaged planks and figuring out how to best arrange them over the holes.

Sylvain groaned. “But you make this look so much easier!”

“Quit bickering and help him up!” Balthus insisted from below. “My shoulders are killing me!”

“Well, if Felix would just- _YOW!_ ”

Byleth and Ashe both jumped a little at Sylvain’s sudden yelp of pain. In that moment, he lost his hold on the roof, instantly compromising his balance upon Balthus’ shoulders. After only briefly wobbling, they fell, tumbling atop each other.

“Hey!” Balthus exclaimed. “What’s the big idea, pal?”

Sylvain rolled off of him and groaned in response, holding his backside. “Ow.”

Worry spread all over his face, Ashe tossed aside the wooden planks in his arms and rushed over to Sylvain’s side, crouching down and looking for any serious injuries.

“What happened? Where does it hurt?”

“Don’t tell me he broke his tailbone again,” Felix said, exasperated, as he peered over the edge of the roof to survey what happened.

Sylvain stayed right there, laying on his stomach. He shook his head while looking thoroughly disappointed in himself. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “It was a bee. The damn bee stung me on the ass.”

Everybody blinked for a few moments.

Before Byleth could stop himself, he had let out a sudden snort of laughter. Felix quickly followed suit, while the others just stared, either in bewilderment at Sylvain’s injury, exasperation at Felix mocking him, or surprise that Byleth was actually laughing. 

In any case, Sylvain’s face went bright red from embarrassment.

“It’s not funny!” he insisted. “Stupid bee…”

Ashe and Balthus looked at each other and couldn’t hold back a snicker as they helped Sylvain stand up again.

“Come on, pal. It’s kinda funny.”

“No, it’s not! It’s ridiculous! I’m not gonna be able to lay on my back for a week!”

Ashe patted him on his shoulder. “Oh, don’t be such a baby. Let’s get inside and treat it. It’ll stop hurting in less than an hour.”

As they watched Ashe lead him inside the house, with Sylvain slightly hunched over and walking quite stiffly, Byleth was unable to hold back another laugh. He couldn’t help it. The others seemed happy to see him finally laughing. And in that moment it dawned on Byleth that he hadn’t laughed in… months. Perhaps it had been when one of the monastery cats tried in vain to attack its own tail, or one of the Black Eagles telling him a joke. He did recall that Dimitri had made him laugh a few times, during those strange and magical few weeks they spent together in the castle. This time, though, the laughter that escaped his lips didn’t feel unnatural at all. It felt right.

Once their laughing fit was over, Balthus helped Byleth clamber onto the roof so he and Felix could work together on patching up the holes. Though, on occasion, they would glance over at each other and snicker a bit between them.

Upon peeking through one of the untended holes in the roof, they could see Sylvain laying atop one of the beds, pouting in embarrassed exasperation as Ashe tended to his tiny wound. They could hear Yuri calling from downstairs, asking what had happened. After Ashe presumably answered, they heard Yuri laughing. Sylvain proceeded to groan and hold a pillow over his face.

Some time in the afternoon, just when the holes in the roof were nearly all patched up, Ashe and Claude emerged from the house, with two empty bags swung over their shoulders.

“Hey!” Claude called. “You guys wanna come with us to the village?”

Felix’s head perked up. “Eh? What for?”

To answer him, Ashe lifted up the list they’d scribbled down the night before. The very long list of supplies needed for their new home.

Felix winced in displeasure at the sight of it. “Nah. I’m gonna stay here and finish this.” And he turned right back to the roof to keep futzing with the placement of one of the last pieces of wood to cover up a hole.

“Suit yourself, grape. How about you, Teach?”

Byleth gave him a smile and a nod.

Some minutes later, the three of them found themselves on the path up towards the village; a deceptively short distance from the wide rise of land upon which the farm was perched. Still, it was a pleasant walk, since the sun was out and the wind was calm. As they headed down the worn dirt road, Byleth glanced behind him. They were being followed… by the ginger cat! It was trotting along behind them, letting out an occasional meow as if to ask them to wait.

Byleth stopped walking and crouched down, reaching out his hand for the cat to sniff.

He heard Claude chuckle softly behind him. “Well, hey there, little guy. Didn’t want us to leave you behind, huh?”

“Yeah, this guy’s the friendliest out of those three cats,” Ashe added.

The cat proceeded to rub the side of Byleth’s leg. It was purring. Byleth stroked its back, scratching a bit behind its ears. Much to his surprise, the cat suddenly leapt onto his knee, then jumped right onto his shoulder. Claude laughed again when the cat settled in place right on Byleth’s shoulders.

“I guess he’s pretty attached to you, huh?”

Byleth nodded as he carefully stood up. The cat lightly dug its claws into his shoulder in order to stay anchored in place, though it hardly hurt at all. With their fourth companion in tow, the three of them returned to their gentle pace along the road.

“We should give him a name!” Ashe suggested.

Byleth blinked. “A name?”

“Sure, why not? Didn’t you name any of those strays you always used to feed at the monastery?”

“No,” Byleth replied simply. “I never saw the need.”

“Well, I say he deserves a proper name,” added Claude, leisurely crossing his hands behind his head. “Since it seems he and those other two are gonna be staying with us for a while.”

As they kept walking, Ashe looked like he was thinking very hard. The ginger cat was still purring, quite content atop Byleth’s shoulders. The simple wooden gateway of the village got closer.

“How about… Nemo?” said Ashe, lifting his head to meet Byleth’s eyes.

Byleth considered this, reaching up to lightly scratch underneath the cat’s chin. “Nemo,” he repeated softly, testing the sound of the name on his tongue. “Not bad.”

Claude grinned. “Then Nemo it is. It kind of sticks, doesn’t it?”

The village was quite a bit smaller than Byleth anticipated. Not as small as the tiny village by the river they stopped at in Faerghus, but not big enough to have roads paved with cobblestones. Just small enough to be idyllic, with mostly pleasant backwater folk who seemed to take well to their new neighbors. A few of the shopkeepers in the market square even recognized Ashe.

The three of them looked at the list together, considering how long this might take. When Ashe suggested splitting up throughout the market to find what they needed, Byleth and Claude agreed, knowing it would take less time. With Nemo on his shoulders and some coins tucked into his pocket, Byleth headed off to find proper bedding for all seven of them. They only had some cloaks and bare old mattresses and pillows for now. Ashe was off to find tea and some things for a hypothetical garden, while Claude was supposed to get more food for the house. It was enough to start, they supposed.

As Byleth quietly perused the picturesque market square, keeping an eye out for somewhere that would be selling bed sheets and blankets, his mind began to ask him if this was a good idea. Being alone in a new place. There could be eyes looking for him. Soldiers or knights.

 _No,_ he told himself, shaking his head a little. _I’m safe here. They can’t find me here._

He turned a little, observing a few figures dressed in white and gray.

_Wait-_

His heart began to pound. That uniform, those cloaks, the caps that hid their eyes, the symbol embroidered into their clothes-

Agents of the Church.

_Fuck._

Byleth’s heart pounded only harder as his blood turned to ice, his instincts screaming at him to run, but only allowing him to step backwards, hoping with all his might that those agents wouldn’t turn around to see him. If they saw him, it was all over. They would take him back to northern Faerghus. Back to that horrible mansion.

_I can’t- I can’t go back- I can’t let them see me!!_

Even Nemo seemed to take note of his clear discomfort. Byleth pulled him off his shoulders and into his arms, gripping him to his chest as he turned and rushed out of the marketplace. He didn’t know where he was going. He just had to make sure the agents of the church hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him. The town seemed to morph into a labyrinthine city, the walls of the buildings around him looming over him, the gaps between the bricks full of piercing eyes and crests of Seiros. He couldn’t get away. He didn’t know where to go.

He found himself in an alley, between two tall houses, blessedly in the darkness cast by late afternoon. Chest heaving and scar stinging, Byleth hid in the shadow of a large barrel, holding Nemo tightly to him.

_Breathe. God damn it, breathe._

Nemo didn’t seem to mind being held so tightly. He stayed quite still, as if waiting for Byleth to move. And all Byleth could do was shut his eyes, try to focus on taking deep breaths, and pray his heart would calm down.

“Teach?”

Byleth quickly lifted his head at the sound of that voice. At the opening of the alley were two familiar figures, stepping tentatively into the shadows.

“I’m-“

Damn it. Why did his voice sound so tight and weak? He gulped.

“…I’m here.”

“Hey, there you are,” Claude responded, his voice low and comforting as he slowly crouched down in front of him, a saddened little smile on his face. “Are you okay? Ashe and I saw you run out of the marketplace, and we had to come check on you.”

Byleth couldn’t help it when his breathing started to quicken again. “I- I saw them. They were from the Church. Those men in white and gray. W-we’ve got to get out of here.”

“Those guys?” Ashe asked. His eyebrows went up as he glanced back out into the market square. “Oh, I talked to them a few days ago. They’re just small-town priests, nobody to be concerned about. Since they’re not technically part of the larger organization as a whole, they’re more like just simple men of the faith, you know?”

Simple men of the faith.

Byleth swallowed hard. “Y-you sure? They won’t be looking for us?”

“No, no, of course not,” Ashe said with a smile. “They’re fine, don’t worry.”

He had to shut his eyes again. His heart was starting to relax at last, though his blood still felt icy cold, his whole body overwhelmed with the shakes. Nemo was quite still, not making any move to squirm away from Byleth’s arms; the warmth of his fur was a great comfort to him. And there was the familiar weight of Claude’s hands on his shoulders.

“It’s okay, Teach. You’re safe.”

Byleth could only manage a nod.

When he spoke again, his voice was almost a whimper. “When will Dimitri be here…?”

Claude hesitated to answer. “He said it could be up to a few weeks. It seems like he really does have a plan, though. We just have to trust in that and wait.”

Byleth lifted his head, not realizing how nearly heartbroken he looked in that moment. “A few _weeks…?_ ”

“Hey, hey…” Claude murmured, gently rubbing Byleth’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Better safe than sorry. He’ll be fine, I promise you. And so will we.”

“…Okay.”

“You ready to come back out?”

Byleth slowly took in a breath, then gave Nemo a little stroke down his back. “Uh-huh.”

“Alright. Stick with me, okay? Let’s go find some chow for the guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: just a mild depiction of something of an anxiety attack. 
> 
> the rest is some much-needed comic relief!


	23. Underwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude learns a horrifying secret.

Slowly but surely as the days passed by, their home began to take shape. The roof didn’t leak, the fireplace was warm, the loft was quiet, and the water pump out back flowed easily. The chairs in the kitchen were still a little creaky, and the garden still wasn’t much more than a big rectangular patch of dirt, but this place was really starting to feel like home. The three cats kept the mice in check, as well as keeping them all company. The lake was ever so pretty in the evening, as was the meadow behind the house, right at the golden hour.

For the first time in all their years, life felt blessedly simple.

And for the first time in weeks, they felt like all their fears could be set on the shelf for a while.

The latest completion on the house was the washroom, just adjacent to the pantry and the stairs to the loft. It wasn’t a lot; a basin, a scratchy mirror attached to the wall, some shelves for soap and razors and towels, and a wooden tub that they’d barely managed to keep from getting leaky. It was at Yuri’s insistence that they get some nice bath salts and herbal solutions that would make their baths feel a little more luxurious. Reluctant as they were, the others agreed that the washroom sure did smell nice now.

Additionally, the evening it was all finished, Yuri insisted that Byleth be the first one to try them out.

“You deserve it, babe,” Yuri said with a smile. “A nice, long bath will do you good.”

Byleth seemed hesitant and even a little uncomfortable at the idea, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know… Weren’t those herbal things kind of expensive?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. After all we’ve been through, especially you, I figured we could make good use of them.”

Before Byleth could protest any more, Yuri was already on his way to setting out a few nice things in the washroom for him, and to start to get some hot water going. Claude had agreed at the idea of Byleth being the first to try it out, but was the first to pick up on how nervous Byleth seemed, recalling the day at the river, when he took note of how terrified Byleth was at the notion of getting into the water. Like always, he stood up and went to his side, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. Byleth lifted his head to meet his gaze.

“You okay?”

Byleth glanced away, hesitating. “…Do you think you could help me?”

“Oh, uh…” Claude blinked a few times, not realizing a flustered blush was rising in his face. “S-sure. Do you just need the company?”

“I think so,” Byleth admitted. “I’d rather not be alone in there.”

“That’s fair. Come on.”

It was only a few minutes later that Yuri slipped out of the washroom, the warm scent of lavender and pine following him and a satisfied smile on his face. Sure enough, when Byleth and Claude stepped inside and shut the door behind them, the tub was steaming, and a nice towel with a washcloth and some spare soap was right beside it. It looked so quaint and idyllic, especially with the warm lanterns they’d installed some days ago.

And yet, Byleth still looked terrified. He was shaking, even.

“Byleth?” Claude asked. When the other man didn’t respond, Claude stood in front of him and gently held his shoulders, cutting off the way he was staring wide-eyed at the hot water in front of him. “Hey, hey… Look at me.”

Trying to draw in a deep breath, Byleth lifted his head.

“The water reminds you of something, doesn’t it?” Claude asked, keeping his voice gentle and low. “Something bad. It’s why you were scared to get in the river.”

Byleth shut his eyes for a moment and nodded.

“You wanna tell me about it? You don’t have to if—“

“It was the baron.”

Claude was surprised that Byleth seemed to blurt that out, but he didn’t stop him. He gazed at him softly and sadly, letting him go on and taking note of the fact that Byleth didn’t seem to want to look up at him again, instead choosing to hold onto one of Claude’s hands. An anchor to squeeze.

“He…” Byleth swallowed hard. “…He forced me to bathe with him.”

Claude instantly started to feel a little sick. He suddenly recalled the night of Byleth’s rescue; seeing him dressed in silky, draping fabrics that showed off lots of his skin, the constricting weight of his bronze chains and attached leash, the way the drunken baron struck him and shouted at him, the hiss of that baron’s voice as he called him _slave boy._ The way they had to silently stay in the shadows as they witnessed this, unable to move until the baron had left. Upon briefly considering the kinds of abuse they didn’t see, that no one else saw, Claude had to bite back his nausea.

Shaking still, Byleth went on, the words pouring out of him like a confession. “H-he wouldn’t stop touching me. It’s- it’s like he _always_ wanted to fuck me. Always wanted to see me in pain…”

“Oh, Teach…” Claude whispered, his hand rubbing Byleth’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry…”

Byleth gulped again. “T-there was this time… H-he grabbed my hair and told me to suck him off. Under the water. And he w-wasn’t going to let me come up for air until he finished.” His lip was trembling at this point, his eyes squeezed shut. “I- I couldn’t breathe… I thought I was going to drown. And I almost… I almost did.”

Claude definitely felt sick upon hearing that. He was… _horrified._

That baron was a fucking _monster._

No wonder Byleth was terrified of getting into water.

“It’s alright,” Claude said after a few moments of gathering himself. “I’ll stay with you the whole time, okay? You just take all the time you need.”

Byleth nodded. He breathed in, then back out, his breathing shaky. Just like all those times before, Claude pressed their foreheads together, gently holding the back of his head and stroking his hair, murmuring reassuring little words. Slowly but surely, Byleth’s breathing slowly went back to normal, and he wasn’t shaking nearly as badly.

“I’ve got you,” Claude whispered.

At this point, Byleth almost wanted to get the initial part of it over with; just getting his clothes off and stepping into the hot water. Claude wasn’t bothered at all by seeing him like this, and Byleth seemed to be soothed by the scented oils Yuri had added to the water; pine and lavender. They brought his thoughts elsewhere. Claude’s hands holding his own was a comforting anchor; another distraction from the rotten memories engraved into his nerves. His voice was the reassurance that this was real, this wasn’t the past repeating itself, this wasn’t a dream.

By the time Byleth had considerably calmed down, they worked together to get him clean, massaging soap into his hair and slowly rinsing it out. Claude felt like this was such an intimate honor; to be able to clean him like this, to be allowed to cross this boundary, to be shown such a horrific secret and to be trusted with those memories.

Byleth was fragile and broken. Claude wanted to be the adhesive that could put him back together.

Some bad memories tried to claw their way to the surface a few times, though Claude’s reassurances managed to get them to loosen their hold on Byleth’s nerves. Broadly, though, Byleth was calm, seeming more exhausted the longer they stayed. They took their time. Claude wouldn’t dare rush Byleth into anything he didn’t have to.

Claude wasn’t even sure how much time had passed when they started getting him dried off, but he smiled when he noted how sleepy Byleth seemed to be now. His skin was a little pink from the heat of the water. His hair now smelled like lavender and pine. Thankfully, some soft, clean nightclothes had been set out by Yuri earlier. They fit Byleth nicely. For some reason, Claude felt the need to pull him into his arms, holding him tight to his chest. Byleth rested his head on Claude’s shoulder, his arms around Claude’s middle.

“Alright, it’s getting late,” Claude said softly. “Let’s get you upstairs, my friend.”

The others were quietly chatting in front of the fireplace when the two of them emerged from the washroom. A couple of them looked up, but didn’t say anything. Claude just offered them a little smile as he and Byleth started up the stairs to the loft; a silent way to let them know Byleth was okay.

Two of the cats followed close by their heels; the ginger cat and the black cat. Claude didn’t even notice them until Nemo hopped onto Byleth’s bed, and the black one jumped up to the loft window, perching there like a guard. As Byleth laid down on his side, Nemo curled up right beside his stomach, close to his chest, settling quite comfortably. Claude pulled the covers up just as Byleth’s eyes started to drift closed.

He ran his hand over Byleth’s damp hair. “Sleep well, Teach.”

When he stood up, he was glad to see that Byleth seemed to be breathing easy, his face slack and at peace, the cat purring against his middle. He’d be fine for the night.

But there was still an awful weight pulling down at Claude in his soul. He quietly climbed back down from the loft, his mind all adrift with all he had witnessed up to this point, the ghosts of them hanging behind his eyes. He didn’t even realize how troubled he looked until Ashe tried tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Claude? Is Byleth okay?” he asked. A few moments passed, enough time for him to realize that wasn’t the right question. “…Are _you_ okay?”

Claude lifted his head to look up at him. “I…” He stepped away, towards the back door. “I- I need a minute.”

Past the back door was the quiet yard and the meadow beyond, the shadow of the forest stark against the sky filled with stars. The gentle chill of the night air was a relief to Claude, the noise of the crickets starting to distract his thoughts. But even the glow of the starlight above him was no relief for the weight within him that was growing heavier and heavier, the more he learned about all Byleth had been through while trapped in the north. He stood just past the awning at the back door, his fist resting on one of the wooden posts that kept it upright.

His eyes started to sting. He quickly shut them.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

What heartless beast would think of punishing an enemy of war in such a horrible way? How far would the archbishop have gone against him if she’d had him in her clutches even longer? Was there no depravity the baron hadn’t done to him? Was there no questioning his actions, no second thoughts about the horrible things he was doing to his slave? No remorse?

Did those kinds of monsters ever have any remorse for what they do to the innocent?

Claude didn’t know. What he did know was that Byleth had been far more broken than he thought at first. And the realization of that made his heart ache, worse than it ever had.

Unable to hold it back, Claude covered his face with his hand and allowed himself a few minutes to quietly cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: recollections of abuse, sexual assault, and near-drowning
> 
> I'M SORRY I MADE CLAUDE CRY


	24. Bees and All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth keeps getting nightmares. He and Sylvain have a chat at the lake. A thunderstorm arrives, and with it come memories.

It only took a couple of weeks for Byleth to start to get… antsy.

They settled in more each day, finding new things to fix and bickering over the arrangement of things. Ashe once proudly marched in from outside to announce that he’d gotten some plants to grow in their little garden; they weren’t much right now, but in time they’d be growing all of their own food. At least, those were his words. It seemed like a quiet era of life awaited them here, one where their worries only haunted them when they thought about them too hard; when they remembered who was hunting them beyond the forest.

Byleth could never seem to get distracted enough to forget.

He would glance out the window quite often, his gaze trailing down the road they’d entered in a few weeks ago. His senses were always on high alert; he’d lift his head quickly and immediately look outside if he heard someone on the road. At night, he would murmur names in his sleep, heartbroken and terrified.

Petra. Ferdinand. Hubert. Caspar. Linhardt. Dorothea. Jeritza. Bernadetta.

Edelgard…

But when he said Dimitri’s name in his sleep, his voice would sound even sadder.

It took about two days for Claude and the others to realize that when Byleth stared down the road that led north, and when he lifted his head at the sound of hoofbeats along the road, he was looking for Dimitri. Especially now that it had been a few weeks, as Dimitri had promised, so he watched for Dimitri’s arrival throughout a larger portion of the days as they went by.

One evening, Claude found Byleth perched atop the upper rung of the wooden fence, facing the road, looking to the north. The last of the sunlight had gone, leaving him a lonely silhouette against the darkening blue of the evening skies, unaffected by the slight chill of the wind around him. It was like he didn’t feel it. Like he was still used to the cold.

He jumped slightly in surprise when Claude wrapped a blanket over his shoulders. Claude just gave him a smile, and Byleth returned it, though only for a moment.

“You know,” Claude started, leaning his elbows on the fence beside his friend, “they say a watched pot never boils.”

Byleth blinked at him, confused.

“Oh,” Claude said with a chuckle. “You never heard that one? It means when you’re waiting for something, and it’s all you can think about, time is gonna pass really slowly, and it’ll seem like it takes forever.”

After a few moments, Byleth looked away again, his gaze still glued to the road. “It certainly feels that way… Time is strange like that, I suppose.”

“But you get my point, right?”

“…Yeah. I think so.”

Claude reached up to gently tug the edge of the blanket a little closer around Byleth’s shoulders, smiling at him again. “Dimitri will be here,” he said softly. “I promise. He doesn’t seem like the type to leave you waiting for him too long.”

Byleth flashed a smile at him, wistful and even a little hopeful. “You’re right… He’s not. I’m… I’m just worried. I’m afraid something happened to him.”

“He’ll be fine,” Claude reassured. “If he’s as in love with you as I think… he’s not gonna let anything get between him and his determination to get back to you.”

“Yeah… Thanks.”

Claude just winked at him. “Anytime, Teach. And hey, don’t stay out too long, okay? It’s getting pretty cold out.”

Byleth nodded, though he made no move to follow Claude as he headed back into the house. He hung his head, shutting his eyes, not looking up at the road for the first time since that afternoon. His heart felt heavy, and the wind felt like nothing at all.

“I’m always cold anyway…” he whispered, to no one in particular.

The peaceful night that followed wasn’t peaceful for long. Like so many nights before, Byleth’s voice cut through the silence, blinded by the terror of visions from his subconscious. Most of the time, Claude was the first to wake up upon hearing their friend having another nightmare, followed by Felix, who would instinctively draw his sword in alarm, and usually unintentionally wake up Sylvain, who slept beside him on their shared bed. Tonight was no different. Ashe briefly lifted his head upon hearing the noise, then laid back down again when he saw that Claude had already gone to Byleth’s side and gathered him up in his arms.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Claude whispered, carefully running his hand over Byleth’s hair. “It was just a bad dream. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“But—“ Byleth sniffed, clinging to Claude’s shirt so hard his hands trembled. “It w-wasn’t just a dream… They’re gone. They’re dead. I failed them all. They’re all _dead,_ Claude!”

Claude’s heart sank. Byleth’s nightmares were always different, but it seems that the ones that hurt the most were the ones of his students, the ones who were killed the day Byleth had been captured. It was the _guilt_ that seemed to eat away at him.

“Why couldn’t I save them?” Byleth whimpered, shutting his eyes. A single tear slipped out and rolled down his cheek. “Why did I get to live?”

It took Claude a few moments to steel himself and gather his words as he adjusted his hold on Byleth so he could hold him a little more comfortably. “Maybe it was just the will of the goddess,” he said quietly, hoping that it would comfort his friend. “Fate has a funny way of making things work out in the end, you know? Maybe you just can’t see it yet.”

Byleth shook his head a little. “Sothis wouldn’t have wanted this.”

Claude decided not to ask how he knew that. Instead, he just kept gently stroking his hair, hushing him every now and then, doing his best to calm him down. Eventually, Byleth stopped shaking. He’d rested his head on Claude’s chest, as if gently grounded by hearing his heartbeat, and was finally taking deep breaths.

“Ready to go back to sleep? Rest will do you good,” Claude whispered.

Byleth nodded.

Almost as soon as Byleth laid back down and Claude pulled the covers up to his shoulders, Nemo took his place curled up beside Byleth’s stomach, sleepy and content. Now warm and calm again, Byleth let out a gentle sigh as he shut his eyes and tried to let sleep take him again.

It took Claude a lot longer to get back to sleep… not that he minded.

One thing that did always soothe Byleth was trying his hand at fishing at the nearby lake. It was always so quiet out there, and in some afternoons it was such a lovely place to just sit and watch the various little woodland birds while waiting for a bite. There was a small wooden dock, which seemed like it hadn’t been used in some years, though it was still in good condition. The lake was almost perfect.

When dreading nighttime and the terrors that came with it, the serenity of nature was a blessing that could distract him well enough. Sometimes he went alone, sometimes someone accompanied him. Usually it would be Claude or Ashe. This time, however, it was Sylvain.

Like Ashe, Sylvain was usually easy to be around. Despite being a somewhat annoying womanizer, he was usually pretty laid-back and good-natured, and Byleth did like spending time around him.

By the time they settled in place at the edge of the dock with their bait in the water, it was late morning; the sun wasn’t beating down on them quite yet, since a few branches thankfully hung over that side of the dock this time of day. The breeze was soothing. Especially after the terrors Byleth had last night.

“Man, it really is nice out here,” Sylvain remarked, resting his elbows on his knees as he peered out over the water. “I gotta come fishing here with you more often.”

Byleth glanced over at him. “How’s the bee sting?”

“Oh, the one on my ass?” Sylvain laughed. “It was a little sore for almost a week, but I’m fine. Good thing I’m not allergic to bees, right?”

“Right,” Byleth agreed. He looked back at the water, keeping an eye on his line.

There were a few minutes of silence while they took in the serene sight around them, the sounds of the birds the only thing breaking the silence. After a while, Sylvain rested back on one of his hands.

“So, forgive me if this is too intrusive, but…”

Byleth instinctively tensed, just slightly.

“What happened at that baron’s mansion? While he had you?”

Byleth lifted his head to look at him, scanning his eyes to be sure this is what he really wanted to ask. And there was no lie in Sylvain’s eyes; it seemed there were things he assumed had happened, but was too afraid to confirm it outright aside from asking him. Perhaps he thought his assumptions might be right, and that would have been far too horrifying. As if picking up on how Byleth was staring at him, Sylvain got a twinge of shame in his eyes, and he looked away.

“I’m… guessing a lot of bad things, right?”

Taking in a breath and slowly letting it out, Byleth nodded. “Yes. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Okay. …I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that.” Sylvain’s voice was gentle and genuine; he wasn’t just trying to rectify the tension, but to genuinely apologize.

Byleth looked over at him. His heartbeat had only briefly sped up, but now it felt normal again. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Maybe sometime I’ll be a little more ready to talk about it.”

That idea brought a smile onto Sylvain’s face. “Well, you take all the time you need,” he remarked with one of those signature sparkling grins of his. “And when you’re ready, we’ll all be here for you. Yeah?”

Byleth nodded. “…Yeah.”

“I know I’ll definitely be here,” Sylvain continued. He leaned further back so he was laying back against the dock, his hand still deftly hanging onto his fishing pole. “Not like I’m planning on going back to Faerghus anytime soon. I mean, I go back to Gautier territory and my father will probably kill me. He’s gotta be _pissed._ ” Despite having admitted such a grim idea, Sylvain chuckled. “Did I tell you I abandoned my noble title to go on this mission and hide away in the empire?”

Byleth blinked. “No, you didn’t. All of you abandoned being nobility?”

“Most of us, yeah. Even Felix left behind his noble status to become a swordsman for hire once the war was over. Just for a few months, though. Claude recruited him after getting that letter from Dimitri, and, well, you know the rest.”

Byleth thought about this for a few moments. “What about the Alliance? Isn’t Claude still the leader?”

That one caught Sylvain off guard. He stuck out his bottom lip in thought. “Technically?” he replied. “Pretty sure Lorenz managed to survive through the war, so if anything, Claude probably left the Alliance to him, at least for a while. I’m not sure if he even intends to go back. We seem pretty set on staying here.”

“…And if he never does go back? What will become of the Alliance then?”

Sylvain shrugged. “Eh, they’ll be fine. Knowing Claude, he most likely made all the proper arrangements he could before leaving to come get us.”

How strange. The Empire’s leader had died in her own war. The Alliance’s leader was hiding in the open Empire territory. And the Kingdom’s leader was trying to get back to his beloved, who’d previously been his enemy. It was a little bit ironic, but there was something beautiful in its almost poetic arrangement. Death, abandonment, dreams, and quiet renewal. Not with a glorious showdown in a city on fire, but slowly, like a brave little blossom rising out of ashen ground.

Byleth couldn’t stop what he was about to say next.

“Do you regret it?”

Sylvain paused. “…What do you mean?”

“Well… you left behind your family. Your noble title. Everything you knew, everything you had a right to, wanting for nothing… all gone. Just to rescue me and keep me safe here. You didn’t think twice about that decision?”

“I didn’t have to,” Sylvain said quite simply. “It was either stay a wealthy noble knight my whole life and live knowing I could have helped someone who got really _royally and undeservedly_ fucked over by the Church, or take my chances and choose to help them anyway, no matter what might happen. Would you have chosen any different?”

Byleth shook his head.

That made Sylvain smile warmly again. “There, see? I wouldn’t dare regret something like this.” He leaned back on the dock again, resting one of his hands behind his head. “Besides… I like it out here. Roughing it at a farm with a bunch of old friends, fixing up a run-down old farmhouse, going fishing whenever I want, no noble obligations in sight? It’s a dream come true.”

Byleth chuckled. “Bees and all?”

Sylvain’s eyes closed, a satisfied little smile on his face. “Bees and all.”

And for that afternoon, Byleth was in higher spirits. Even Sylvain was like the rest of them; trying to change for the better, to be someone better than he was before. War or no war, ghosts or no ghosts, Byleth was glad they’d all chosen to stay with him here.

Three days later, a thunderstorm arrived.

The holes in the roof were not as well-patched as they’d thought; rainwater was dripping into the loft, mostly caught by a few buckets for the time being. A long day passed, and the rain didn’t look like it was going to let up anytime soon. After drawing straws, it was Balthus and Felix who were stuck with the duty of going out in the pouring rain to mend the leaks with some tar and heavy tarps, just until dry weather came back so they could properly mend them. Their yelling at each other could be heard even through the noise of the rain.

Several hours into the storm, Byleth started to get a headache.

The thunder was too close, the lightning too bright. Claude had tried to get him to lie down for a while, just to see if sleep would take care of the headache, but it still wouldn’t let up. He gave up trying to fall asleep after a few hours of tossing and turning.

When nighttime came and everybody had finished supper and was starting to get washed up for bed, Claude found that Byleth, sitting in front of the fireplace with Nemo in his lap, was making no move to get up. He looked absolutely exhausted, like he’d been awake for days.

“Hey, do you want to try to get some more sleep?” Claude offered. “You’ll feel a lot better.”

Byleth shook his head.

Claude wasn’t happy with that response, but he wouldn’t want to force his friend into anything he really didn’t want to do. He pursed his lips for a moment, debating his words, then finally letting out a sigh.

“Okay,” he relented. “Maybe you’d like a little tea? I can make some for you before I head upstairs for the night.”

A nod followed. “I’d like that. Thank you, Claude.”

Even after having some soothing chamomile tea, Byleth didn’t feel any better. A little sleepier, maybe, but not enough so he could doze off in minutes like he usually did. His head still pounded, and the pain got worse for a few seconds every time there was thunder or lightning, or worse, both at the same time. He was so tired, and he just wanted to sleep, but every time his eyes closed, all he could think about was how much his head hurt, and how it was starting to make him feel sick to his stomach. Great.

Still, he did lay down on the old sofa they put up in front of the fireplace, nothing worthy of a castle but still comfortable enough. With Nemo curled up against his stomach and the other two cats perched on the armrest and his hip respectively, Byleth stared at the fire before him and willed himself to drift off.

The thunder’s rumble was a little quieter this time. Maybe the storm was finally going away. For the first time in days, the low rumble of thunder was almost comforting. His eyes started to flicker closed. The purr of the cats was a comfort, too, and slowly but surely, their gentle vibrations and the warmth of the dancing flames lulled him until his eyes shut.

And suddenly, he saw a house in a village. One in Alliance territory. One he hadn’t seen in many years.

In days long past, Jeralt knew his child needed some semblance of a normal life, so he could grow up not feeling ostracized from other kids, or at least, anymore than he already was. So sometimes, the two Eisners would stay in a village for up to a few months, a year at the longest, just so little Byleth wouldn’t have to always live on the road, and wouldn’t have to only interact with other people on the battlefield.

The house in this village was dark. Thunder rumbled outside… then gave several loud _crackles._

Byleth, five years old, rushed from his room, to his father’s bedside. The storm had woken him. When they were this loud, he was so on edge, jumping at every sound, spooked at the slightest of flashes. Of course, his fear never showed on his face.

He tugged on Jeralt’s sleeve. Jeralt grunted, blinking groggily as he lifted his head to meet the gaze of his son. He blinked a few times before the boy spoke.

“Dad?”

“Hm? What’s the matter? Are you scared?”

Byleth rapidly shook his head.

Another crackle and flash, far louder and brighter this time. Byleth’s eyes widened, startled, and he quickly scrambled onto the bed, shutting his eyes, clinging to his father’s shirt, and burying his face in his father’s chest.

Jeralt was stunned for only a few moments before chuckling softly and gathering his son up in his arms, tucking them both under the warm covers. Byleth already seemed very eased, grounded by the sound of his father’s heartbeat.

“Heh, it’s okay, kiddo,” Jeralt reassured. His voice was always rough and low, but ever so comforting. “You’re safe. Nothing’s gonna hurt you on my watch, okay?”

The thunder quietly rumbled again, and Byleth’s eyes opened.

He’d been brought back to reality. It took him a few moments to re-orient himself. The fire before him was just some smoldering coals by now, but it was still pitch black outside. The black cat and calico cat were curled up in a pile of fur on the floor. He’d only been asleep for a couple hours at most, and his head still ached, but not as severely as before. At least it was something.

_What would my father think if he could see me now?_

He did manage to fall asleep again, after trying to think of what his father might say to him at this point. Dawn had come when he awoke, a misty morning following the onslaught of rain, and it looked like the whole world was hidden behind a cloud. The rain had stopped. Comforted by the silence left behind after two days of thunder and rain, sleep took Byleth again, and it was the most relieving rest he’d had in weeks.

No nightmares, no dreams of a past he barely remembered. Just blessed silence.

Sure, a watched pot never boils, like Claude said.

But Byleth knew he could try to wait a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: nothing too bad. just some hints of Byleth's PTSD. 
> 
> Side note, Byleth's experience with the headache during the thunderstorm is something that actually happened to me this past summer! The thunder and lightning legit kept me from falling asleep. I ended up doing more writing for this very fic (first few chapters) instead of sleeping. I knew it had to be in the story!
> 
> I hope I'm depicting it all okay! If anybody sees something that's inaccurately and/or harmfully depicted, especially when it comes to mental illness, please let me know and I will do my best to correct it!
> 
> Sorry for being gone for a few days, I've been getting geared up for my new retail job. Hopefully my long shifts won't wipe me out too much, for I do intend to finish this story!! Bear with me, stay tuned, wish me luck!
> 
> Have a fun and safe Halloween!


	25. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude admits something. The guys get antsy. Dimitri has a dangerous idea.

It had been over a month since they arrived at the farm, and there was still no sign of Dimitri.

Everyone was starting to get worried, even Felix. There were no rumors of one-eyed demons or wayward kings, no traces of soldiers or knights, regardless of whether or not they were loyal to the king or the Church. There were no letters, either. Just the waiting. The more days went by, the more they hated the uncertainty.

Still, things were still settling into place. The house definitely felt like home, and the garden out front was starting to take shape. The barn was still a bit shabby, but they didn’t anticipate they’d use it much, so it wasn’t a problem to leave it as it was. Ashe had even gotten a job in the village as a shopkeeper’s assistant; it wasn’t much, but it helped them keep up with their expenses. Even Balthus, bored out of his mind most of the time, found himself working at the local smithy, learning the trade and helping out the head blacksmith for a few extra coins. And Felix could usually be found hunting in the forests surrounding their land. Or he was just on patrol. It depended on whether or not he brought home some game at the end of the day.

Byleth seemed most at ease when something was occupying his hands. Fishing, petting or feeding the cats, cleaning, tending to the garden, among other things. He was always very quiet, like he always had been, but his thoughts were usually elsewhere. Though it seemed he was doing his best not to think about Dimitri too much, or how much he missed him.

He was trying his damndest to be patient. To be okay.

Claude was always the first to pick up on how Byleth was feeling. Whether he was mostly at peace or bothered or uncomfortable or even terrified, Claude would be there to make sure he was alright, to ease him down from his fear, or gently reassure him, or even something as simple as making him some tea or just making dinner together. Out of all of them, Claude was undoubtedly the closest with Byleth. And Byleth was grateful for everything he did for him.

Nighttime usually brought nightmares. This time, Yuri was woken by the sound of Claude’s soft murmurs, and he looked up to see Claude once again holding Byleth in his arms, close to his chest, calming him down from the terror of another horrible nightmare. A few tears could be seen sliding down Byleth’s cheeks, but it was clear he was holding back. Every time this happened, he never truly cried. Yuri often wondered how long it would take for the dam to break.

As Byleth slowly calmed down, Yuri took note of how unbothered Claude was by this. Losing sleep, honing his intuition to ensure Byleth was okay, comforting him no matter how tightly his panic gripped him. Claude’s care for Byleth was bottomless; there was always more to give.

Claude sat at the edge of Byleth’s bed, gently stroking Byleth’s hair to lull him back to sleep. And in time, Byleth laid still, breathing easy.

Yuri found himself walking over towards them. Claude looked up and smiled.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Not really,” Yuri replied. “But I’ll be fine.” He looked down at them, observing Claude’s ever so gentle touch upon his friend; such a serene sight. “…You love him, don’t you?”

For a long moment, Claude didn’t respond. Then, he softly chuckled. “Heh. You caught me.”

“So…?” Yuri waited for him to explain.

His smile gone, Claude sighed. “…I think I always have been a little bit in love with him. Even during our days at the academy. Even though he was teaching the Eagles instead of the Deer, and even though I knew Edelgard would chastise me for weeks for ‘annoying’ him at the ball, I couldn’t resist a dance with him. Right from the start, I’d fallen for him. But…”

Yuri tilted his head in interest. “But?”

Claude shook his head. “He’s not mine. He never has been. But that’s alright… I’m okay with that. I just have to keep making sure he’s okay until Dimitri gets here. He needs Dimitri. They need each other.”

“And if Dimitri never gets here?” Yuri prodded. “What then? Will you offer your love to him?”

“More than I already have been?” Claude looked away, brow furrowed and heart heavy. “…I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d even have the right to. If the unthinkable happens, and Dimitri turns out to be… _dead…_ then he’ll be grieving for a long time. You’ve seen how torn up he is just by being apart from him. I can’t ask him to be mine after he’d only just lost someone he loves so much. I could never do that to him.”

Yuri took in a breath and let it out. “Look, if that happens, which I doubt it will, we’ll just have to be there for him. It’s all we can do.”

“I know.”

A moment passed. Yuri smiled. “You’re a good friend to him, Claude. The best friend he could ask for.”

Claude returned the smile, his heart not seeming as heavy as before. “It’s the best thing I can be for him.”

Some days later, a lovely evening arrived at the farm. Balthus and Claude were in front of the house, with Balthus chopping up some firewood and Claude stacking the split pieces in a neat row next to the front door. Both of them were lost in their thoughts for a while.

“Hey, Claude?” Balthus said after several minutes of silence between them, aside from the sounds of their work. “…Do you think something could’ve happened to Dimitri?”

Claude lifted his head to meet Balthus’ eyes. “Elaborate?”

“I mean, we’ve been waiting for him for quite a while, right? Maybe that crazy archbishop found out that he got us to rescue his boyfriend. He’d be in big trouble if that happened. I mean, what if he’s…”

“…Dead?” Claude finished. He stood up straight and shook his head while wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead. “I don’t think so. At least, I hope not. If he loves Teach this much, which I know he does, he’s not gonna let himself get killed for it.”

At that moment, Felix appeared from behind the house, a few dead rabbits slung over his shoulder. It seemed he’d been listening in. “If Dimitri hasn’t been caught by now, he will be soon,” he warned, his voice low and chilly as usual. “And if that’s the case, we’ll be next. Which means it’s not safe to stay here.”

Balthus and Claude looked at him, then at each other. A knowing sense of dread started to settle in within them, cold like the first winter winds, promising a deadly frozen storm. And yet, within that cold was a semblance of determination; there was more than one way out.

Claude nodded a little bit. “Right…” He looked up, back at his two friends, eyes narrowed and grave. “If things start to go really south… then we need to leave Fódlan.”

~

Fhirdiad was always lovely this time of year, in the height of summer when the chill of winter was the furthest away it would ever be. But the warmth never reached King Dimitri, not really.

The search for the thieves who stole Baron Crystoll’s slave still continued, despite it being fruitless thus far. Lady Rhea seemed determined to find them, and had even begun to question the other nobles of both the Kingdom and the Alliance in order to gain more information on the thieves’ whereabouts. The investigation was expanding its borders, even into old empire territory. That made Dimitri nervous, for he knew that’s where they had gone. Time was running out.

While there was clearly no sign of her getting any closer to finding out who had committed such a heinous crime, there was also no sign that Byleth and his rescuers had been captured. Which meant, wherever they were, they were still safely in hiding.

For now.

Through all of his anxiety, Dimitri was not even eased by the idea that Byleth was safe. Somehow, he knew that they were both suffering like this; to be so far apart for so long, with no knowledge of whether or not the other was okay. The longer they waited, the more it hurt, and the colder they felt.

Dedue was still the only one he could trust with these thoughts.

“I know how much you want to go see him, your majesty,” said Dedue, pulling a cloak a little tighter around Dimitri’s shoulders, “but it’s not safe… The archbishop could suspect.”

“She already does…” Dimitri murmured. “It’s not going to be safe no matter what I do.” He looked up, a sort of helpless look on his face. “What if I can never see him again?”

Dedue’s heart sunk. He hated seeing his dear friend so heartbroken like this. But he knew what had to be said. “Is that a sacrifice you’re willing to make? In order to keep him safe?”

Dimitri looked away, back into the fireplace in front of him. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think he needs me. We need each other. Being apart from him for this long… it feels like it's slowly killing me. I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.”

Dedue was genuinely a little afraid for Dimitri. He knew that the kingdom could not be without its king, but the king could not be without the love of his life, and all of them were crumbling, little by little, waiting for the other. It all hinged on what Dimitri was going to do next, but Dedue knew that no matter what he’d decide, he had to be there for him and support him through any choice.

“I am prepared to help you,” Dedue said quietly, kneeling before where his king sat and taking his hand in between his own. “Regardless of what you want to do.”

Dimitri looked at him and smiled gratefully. “Thank you…”

“So then… What will your decision be?”

The king was silent for several long moments, the gears turning in his mind with a furrowed brow as he debated his options. Safe or not, something had to be done before it was too late.

“…I think I have an idea,” Dimitri whispered. “A truly dangerous idea.”

He definitely had Dedue’s attention. “What is it?”

Dimitri’s gaze lit up a bit, almost in excitement.

“…I think I need to fake my death.”

That caught Dedue off guard, and for a long moment he was speechless. “What?”

“I think it’s the only way,” Dimitri explained. “Listen… I could talk to Rodrigue. He’s stayed in Fraldarius territory since even before the war ended, but I know I can trust him. I know he would take good care of the Kingdom in my stead, to honor his loyalty to House Blaiddyd. I could vanish off the face of the earth, and only you and him and I would know what truly happened. Lady Rhea would never suspect, especially if my death is staged as an accident.”

Dedue thought on this. “You have a point, your majesty… If she believes you’re dead, she would not think to track you down.” Then, a thought came to him; a particularly grim one. “But… I fear I may have to flee the Kingdom as well.”

“…Oh,” Dimitri said, realizing what Dedue meant. “You’d be blamed for my death.”

Dedue nodded.

“Then _both_ of our deaths can be faked,” Dimitri proposed. “We’ll stage it as a riding accident, on the cliffs to the west of the city. We’ll make them think that both of us fell to our deaths in the ravine, leaving our bodies unreachable. Once we leave a few traces to make it believable, we can go.”

Dedue took in a breath and slowly let it out. “…That just might work.” He looked down, gently stroking the back of Dimitri’s hand with his thumb. “Perhaps we should not stay together at first. Knowing Rodrigue, I sense it would be wise to fill him in on our plan.”

“You tell him in person,” the king suggested. “I will go alone to where Byleth and Claude and the others are hiding. The first chance you get, come find us.”

For the first time in days, Dedue found himself smiling. “Very well, your majesty. It will be done.”

Dimitri let out a soft sigh, like he was relieved that they’d actually come up with some kind of solution. He would have loved to have left weeks earlier, but knowing how suspicious the archbishop was, perhaps waiting this long was the best idea. Then Byleth being stolen from the north and Dimitri’s death over a month later would not be connected in her mind.

“I’m going to see him again,” he breathed out, unable to believe it. “I’m going to see him.”

Dedue stroked the king’s hand again, happy to see him looking so relieved. “You will. I can tell how much you’ve missed him.”

“Thank you, my friend. Thank you for everything. …I hope you do not think less of me for deciding to abandon my royal status to be with the man I love…”

“Not at all,” Dedue reassured. “There is no nobler cause than love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no CW for this chapter! we're all good here I think.
> 
> I'll definitely be posting a lot less frequently from now on. I started a new job today and they've only given me long shifts. I am only part time though, so I might get a bit of spare energy for writing here and there. 
> 
> You'll have to forgive me. My stress threshold has gone way down since earlier this year and I can only handle so much before I need to recuperate. And I have a feeling this job will be taking a LOT out of me. Ah, retail. My old enemy.
> 
> Sothis, give me strength...


	26. Stay Alive, My Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth catches a fever. A bad one.

“ _Silence._

_“I should have done this a long time ago. I’m going to make everything right. I’m going to restore the reign of the goddess._

_“He is the last remaining warrior of the empire._

_“I ask only that you let him live, as not only a symbol of your triumph in the war… but as a living example to not rebel against the Church of Seiros.”_

Petra. Ferdinand. Dorothea. Bernadetta. Jeritza. Caspar. Linhardt. Hubert. Edelgard.

_“Why, professor?”_

_“Why did you abandon us, my teacher?”_

_“Why did you let her take you away?”_

_“She took us from you. She took your Crest. Your freedom. She blew out the light of your soul.”_

_“You’ll be cold forever unless you take your revenge.”_

_“Destroy her. Don’t run away. Avenge us.”_

_“AVENGE US, MY TEACHER!”_

_“_ **_BYLETH!!_ ** _”_

His eyes shot open. His whole body flinched.

The farmhouse loft was very quiet, save for the crickets that chirped in the fields outside. Balthus was snoring, and a few of the other guys quietly shifted in their sleep. Byleth sat up, looking to Claude’s bed to see if he’d woken up. He hadn’t. As intense as this nightmare was, Byleth had made no noise when it awoke him.

Claude had lost enough sleep trying to calm Byleth down.

_Shouldn’t I be better? I’ve been free for well over a month now._

Well, the nightmares weren’t getting worse, but they weren’t improving either. His haunting dreams were like a mighty battalion, wearing down all his defenses until the fortress fell, leaving him as cold as the rainy night he was taken to the baron’s mansion in the north. His heartbeat was still racing, and he felt a little nauseous. For a long few minutes, he sat up in bed, holding onto his knees, waiting for his body to calm down.

It didn’t.

After almost an hour of waiting, he finally decided to get up. He quietly crept downstairs and found himself wandering outside. It was a quiet night, refreshingly chilly. Though he didn’t quite feel the cold like most other people would; he was cold enough on the inside.

He took a seat on the ground beside the fence behind the house, leaning back against one of the posts. The field and the forest were nearly pitch black, only lit by the dim moonlight and starlight above. Every blade of grass was wet with dew. Just as Byleth rested his head against the wooden post at his back, a cold nighttime wind suddenly blew in from the east, ruffling his hair and his loose white shirt. But he didn’t shiver.

He lifted his head and looked to the skies.

His heart began to send out a silent prayer. Not to the progenitor goddess Sothis… but to his _friend_ Sothis.

_Please forgive me, my friend. I’ve failed._

_I couldn’t keep your daughter from taking your Crest back from me. I couldn’t stop her from making me into a powerless war prize, and from taking me from Dimitri when he fell in love with me…_

_I couldn’t save my students. They all died in front of me. I couldn’t turn back the hands of time fast enough. You gave me the gift of being able to save them, and yet I couldn’t do it when they needed me the most. I fucking failed them._

_I failed everyone. Now I can’t do anything but wait._

_How am I supposed to move on, Sothis? How am I supposed to be okay when they keep screaming at me to take revenge? How can I just keep waiting when I have no way to know if Dimitri is dead or not?_

_It’s not okay that I don’t know what the war was for. It’s not okay._

_Nothing about this is okay._

_I don’t know what to do, Sothis. I just… I just don’t know what to do._

The skies were silent. Tears stung at his eyes, and a few slipped out, rolling down his cheek. His hands trembled.

_Where are you, Sothis?_

_Are you still sleeping in that Crest stone?_

_…You can’t even hear me, can you?_

Byleth bowed his head. He curled up a little tighter against the fencepost, holding tight to his legs and pressing his forehead against his knees. He didn’t care that the dew on the grass was making him damp, or that the wind was getting colder. It just didn’t matter.

_I’m sorry._

_I’m so sorry, Sothis._

_Please, forgive me…_

Hours later, a pale, milky morning arrived, the sun like the inside of an oyster’s shell as it tried its best to shine through the fog. One by one, the men in the loft woke up.

The peace of the morning only lasted a minute.

“Guys?” Claude asked, worry carved all over his face. “…Where’s Byleth?”

Everyone looked to the empty bed. Nemo, the ginger cat, had just woken up from where he’d been curled up on the sheets, and he blinked up at the men just before yawning. Claude was already headed downstairs, with the others following suit, either rubbing some of the sleep out of their eyes or hastily getting some pants and boots on.

“Teach?” Claude worriedly called once he got down the stepladder.

The kitchen was empty, as was the washroom. Nobody was on the couch in front of the fireplace save for the calico cat, who looked just as perplexed as Nemo. Felix and Ashe had gotten downstairs at that point, and Claude turned to them, a sense of urgency in his eyes that Felix hadn’t seen since the night of the rescue over a month ago.

“I’ll check out front and in the barn. Ashe, you go check the lake.”

“I’ll look out back,” said Felix. “He can’t have gone far.”

With that, everybody split up, with the others following suit once they stumbled their way down from the loft. What was Byleth thinking, going out in the middle of the night? Felix knew it wasn’t safe right from the start, and at first he suspected that he may have gotten snatched by agents of the Church.

 _No,_ Felix thought to himself, shaking his head as he opened the door to the back of the house. _He’s not stupid enough to let that happe—_

He stopped in place as soon as he stepped outside.

Laying on the ground beside the fence was Byleth, damp and pale and trembling. Dew had formed on his hair and his clothes, but his skin was covered in a sweaty sheen. Felix rushed to his side, turning him onto his back so he could get a better look at him. And his stomach turned over.

Byleth’s eyes looked up at him, glazed over and half-open. He was breathing, but it sounded like every breath was exhausting him of whatever energy he had. His face was flushed, a mix of dew and sweat slipping down from his forehead. A fever.

Felix moved fast, maneuvering Byleth so he could scoop him up in his arms. Byleth was taller than him, but he could easily pick him up. “So it turns out you _are_ that stupid,” Felix remarked. “How long have you been out here?”

Byleth shut his eyes and just let out a weak little cough in response.

“You’re an idiot,” Felix scolded. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Sylvain appeared at the door right as Felix stood up. “You found him! Where was— Uh oh. He doesn’t look so good.”

Felix looked up at him. “Move.”

Sylvain quickly stepped to the side as Felix rushed the precious cargo in his arms back into the house. Yuri had just started to make a fire, and he paled in the face as soon as he saw the state of Byleth. Balthus followed suit, making a strange noise. As soon as Claude emerged at the front door, about to tell them he didn’t find him out front, his eyes fell upon Byleth, and he _gasped,_ his hand covering his mouth.

“Oh gods— what the hell happened?” Claude said worriedly, going to Felix and gently putting his hand on Byleth’s flushed forehead. “Fuck… He’s burning up.”

“My guess? He went out for fresh air and didn’t come back in. It was a cold night. So he’s got a fever now. A bad one.”

Claude gulped, trying to keep calm and collected. “Okay, um… Let’s get him upstairs. Quickly. We’ve gotta get his temperature back down. Sylvain, can you get some clean water and a cloth?”

“You got it.”

Byleth let out a whimper of discomfort as soon as Felix laid him back down in his bed. He was shaking, and getting a little squirmy. Claude knelt down beside the bed and ran his hand over Byleth’s hair again, doing his best to ease his pain.

“C-Claude…” Byleth murmured, turning his head to look up at his friend, looking a little dizzy. “I’m… I’m so cold…”

“Shh, shh, you shouldn’t talk. Save your strength. I know you feel cold, but it’ll be bad news if we don’t bring your temperature down. Try to just focus on your breathing.”

Byleth took in a small gasp, squeezing his eyes shut. He tightened his lips into a grimace… just as his face started to turn slightly green.

Felix cringed. “Oh, shit.”

He acted fast. There was an empty bucket just next to the wall, and he grabbed it and rushed it to the side of the bed just in time for Byleth to lean over and vomit into it. It wasn’t much, since he hadn’t been eating much lately, but his gut did heave a couple more times before it was over. He groaned in discomfort, shaking even worse now, so hard that he looked as if he might split open at the seams. Claude gently rubbed his back to soothe his nausea.

“Okay, okay…” Claude said soothingly, “That probably feels a little better, huh?”

Byleth nodded a little. He looked positively wiped out.

“Come on, let’s rest you back now…”

He set up another pillow for Byleth to lay his head on so he was somewhat sitting up. His eyelids flickered a bit as he leaned his head to the side, letting out another little whimper. Claude pulled the covers up to his chest so he’d be a little more comfortable, then kept stroking his hair, keeping the turquoise strands out of his eyes. This wasn’t like calming him down from a nightmare. Not at all. And Claude knew it, but found himself still murmuring gentle reassurances to his friend, like he always did after one of his bad dreams. That seemed to help, if only a little bit.

Upon hearing someone coming up the stairs, Claude turned his head to look. Their resident redhead emerged, carrying a bucket of water, a cloth, one of their plain little teacups, and a bright little smile across his face as always.

“Hey, I heard you hurling,” he noted as he sat down on the edge of the bed and scooped up some of the water into the teacup. “This ought to help your throat feel better.”

Byleth did his best to reach for the cup on his own, but his hands were shaking still so badly. So instead, Claude elected to lift up Byleth’s head with one hand and help him sip from the teacup with his other hand. Just a few sips.

“There we go,” Claude murmured. “Just a bit at a time.”

While Claude helped Byleth drink a little more, Sylvain dunked the cloth into the water and wrung it out. Once Byleth seemed to have drank enough, Claude let his head rest back. In turn, Sylvain gently placed the folded-up cloth onto Byleth’s forehead. He looked instantly relieved.

“Think you can keep some soup down? We can make some for you,” Sylvain offered.

Byleth gulped and shook his head. “N-not yet,” he whispered.

“Alright, we’ll make some later this afternoon. It’s still early.”

Claude looked pretty relieved, too, knowing they were doing all they could for their dear friend who’d already been through so much. He looked tired, the panic of the last few minutes having finally died down.

“You alright, Claude?”

He looked up at Sylvain, not realizing how much worry was all over their faces, but it was definitely weighing heavier on Claude. He took in a breath and let it out, trying to let the last vestiges of his panic leave with that breath.

“Yeah, um… Can you have a couple of the guys go to the village today? There might be something at the physician’s place that’ll help him feel better. Maybe the physician can even stop by if he’s not too busy.”

Sylvain nodded and smiled. “Sure. Felix and I can head over there right away.”

Byleth seemed to be fairly stable throughout the morning and afternoon, though his fever was no closer to breaking. He coughed a few times, but that didn’t seem to be anything serious. At least, not yet. Claude kept a close eye on him, and sometimes a few of the other guys would come to check on them throughout the day, replacing the water in the bucket or bringing up some nice herbal tea.

Much to their dismay, the physician was out of town for the week, so no healing herbs or vulnerary potions were to be found, seeing as how the shop was closed. Claude’s heart sunk when Sylvain and Felix relayed the news to him.

“We can do this,” Claude said. “He’s gonna be fine.”

However, when evening came, it didn’t go well. Ashe made a wonderful-smelling soup that seemed perfect for their sickly friend, and was definitely a hit with the others, especially Balthus and Sylvain. But after managing to swallow about half a bowl, Byleth’s face started to turn a little green again. Claude grabbed the empty bucket just in time.

That made Claude nervous. “Can’t even keep some soup down… That’s not good.”

Byleth was shaking again. A slimy little trail of saliva slipped from his lips as he tried to catch his breath. After a few moments, he looked up at Claude helplessly, as if to ask him if he was going to die. That look made Claude wonder if Byleth had ever gotten sick before. Everybody catches fevers when they’re kids, right?

Well, Byleth never was a normal kid to begin with.

“Here, you should have some more water.”

Claude helped him sit up a little and offered the freshly refilled teacup to his mouth, and Byleth gratefully took it, resting his hands atop Claude’s own hands as he drank. Little by little, his discomfort was soothed, either by the cool water, the damp cloth that was put back on his forehead after he laid back down, or Claude’s gentle voice, always bringing him back down to reality and easing his nerves no matter how badly they were wound up.

“There you go,” Claude said after Byleth had finished off another cup of water. “Think you can try to get some sleep?”

Byleth nodded, already shutting his eyes.

As if on cue, just as Claude was making sure Byleth would be comfortable for the night, Nemo climbed up the stairs and leapt onto the bed, settling into place right at Byleth’s side, like he always did at night. He seemed to know that Byleth needed feline company more so now. Claude smiled, and with one last change of the cloth on Byleth’s forehead and telling him to sleep well, Byleth settled into place and shut his eyes, falling asleep in a few short minutes.

His fever didn’t break the next morning.

Or the next day.

Or the next.

It had been over four days, and he was getting weaker still. He couldn’t eat much without his body outright rejecting it. He was able to drink water and some herbal tea, which was a promising sign, since he wasn’t going to get dehydrated at this rate. But he needed to regain his strength, and throwing up almost anything he ate certainly wasn’t helping.

The fever dreams were the worst of it, though. None of them had been sleeping well lately, since Byleth would make little noises of distress throughout the night and even the day, his feverish nightmares making him delirious, confused, unable to distinguish reality from his subconscious. His night terrors didn’t stop when he woke up, but would only get worse. It was like he was never truly asleep, but never truly awake, either.

That was what was most disturbing to them. The lack of true sleep… and the ensuing delusions.

He’d look into the shadows of the loft in the evening and ask Hubert why he was hiding there. Felix would go up there to check on him, and when Byleth saw the sword strapped to Felix’s side, he’d mumble something about reminding Caspar to do his training. He’d turn his head to see Balthus’ tall, broad silhouette coming up the stairs, and he would reach out while softly calling the name of Jeritza. He once reached up, put his hand on top of Sylvain’s hair, and murmured something about reminding Ferdinand about his studies.

One late evening, while Yuri was helping Byleth try to swallow down a healthy herbal tea that should help the headache and cough, Byleth looked up, right into Yuri’s eyes, though Byleth’s eyes were glazed over, and were clearly seeing something different than what was really before him. But he’d never seen Byleth’s eyes look so sad.

“El…”

Yuri blinked. “What’s that now?”

“I’ll… have to join you f-for training some other… other day, Edelgard,” Byleth murmured, leaning back against the pillows against the headboard again. “I’m not… I’m not feeling well.”

Yuri had no idea what to say, how to react, what his next move should be.

“Well, no shit,” he said. “…We’ll just go training another day. Come on now, finish your tea so you can rest.”

Byleth lolled his head to the side and smiled a little bit. “You worry about me too much, El…”

Not a few minutes later, Yuri headed back downstairs, pale and disturbed. The others picked up on this right away.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I am thoroughly _creeped out,_ ” Yuri announced. “That fever has got to go. Don’t tell me you guys are fine with being referred to as his dead students.”

Felix shrugged from where he was slicing up an apple with a large knife. “If it’s what he needs to do, then let him do it. He’ll forget all about his little fever delusions once he’s recovered, and we won’t have to say anything.”

“You mean _if_ he’s recovered,” Sylvain pointed out, staring into the warm fireplace and fidgeting with his fingernails. He looked thoroughly worried. “It’s been four days. He’s getting weaker, you guys.” He looked up at the rest of them, sadness weighing heavily in his eyes, and the words he could hardly bear to say playing on his lips. “If that fever doesn’t break soon… I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

Claude’s gut clenched. “He _has_ to make it,” he said, his voice firm and determined. “He has to. Otherwise this will have all been for nothing.”

Ashe, who was sitting on the floor in front of the fire and was looking just as worried as Sylvain, looked up at Claude. “But what else can we do?” he asked. He almost sounded like he was about to cry. “We’ve already done all we can to break that fever and make him feel better, but it’s not working. We can’t even talk to him anymore. He doesn’t see _us._ He sees… _them._ ”

“What did he start to call _you?_ ” inquired Balthus, looking to Claude. “Wait, don’t tell me… Hanneman. No, wait, Linhardt.”

Claude sighed and shook his head. “He hasn’t called me anything yet. He’s usually asleep when I check on him. Speaking of which, I’m going to do that right now.” He headed for the stepladder, but before taking a single step up, he looked back at his five companions. “Maybe we just have to have some faith in him. Or maybe he just needs some faith in himself.”

That got Felix’s attention again, and he stopped his carving and looked up, eyebrow raised. “I thought you didn’t like blind faith.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Claude looked away. “But we’re gonna need anything we can get if we want him to get through this…”

The other five were very quiet as Claude made his way back up to the loft, which was even quieter. Byleth looked like he was asleep, and for once, he wasn’t squirming or whimpering from a half-awake nightmare. He seemed almost peaceful, his chest steadily rising and falling and his face slack. Claude stepped forward and sat down on the edge of the bed, making it shift just enough so that Byleth’s eyes opened. He turned his head just slightly to look into his friend’s eyes.

“Hey,” said Claude softly, reaching over to stroke Byleth’s hand. “H-how are you feeling? Any better?”

Byleth shut his eyes for a moment and shook his head.

“I figured,” Claude said with a sigh.

For a few moments, there was only silence between them. Byleth just kept looking at him, blinking from sleep and sometimes coughing a bit into his other hand, but he said nothing.

“Look…” Claude started, “I don’t remember ever seeing you sick before. So I don’t know how susceptible you are to things like this. But you’re not really improving so far… and that worries me. A lot.” He finally found the courage to look into Byleth’s eyes. “You _have_ to stay alive. If not for us, then for Dimitri. You didn’t go through everything you did and have waited this long for him just to let a little fever spell your end. You’re so much stronger than that, my friend.”

Byleth looked exhausted, not at all like himself, but he seemed like he was listening.

Another little squeeze of Byleth’s hand, and Claude looked away, trying to hide his mounting tears. “Listen, Teach, if you die on me, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand being haunted by you.”

Byleth looked at him, his face relaxed, but somehow a sense of earnestness in his eyes. And he nodded, just a little bit, and gave Claude’s hand a little squeeze. Just enough strength to let Claude know he had a little fight left in him.

Claude smiled at him. With that, Byleth closed his eyes again, and was asleep once more within moments.

Bowing his head, Claude bit down on his lip to keep it from trembling.

_I know blind faith isn’t my thing, but…_

_If there’s any deity out there who’s listening, please, I beg of you… spare his life._

_He doesn’t deserve this suffering. Please, let him live._

_He needs to live._

_And I will wait for you tonight_

_You're here forever and you're by my side_

_I've been waiting all my life_

_To feel your heart as it's keeping time_

_We'll do whatever just to stay alive_

_\- Stay Alive, Jose Gonzalez_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: depiction of a bad fever and ensuing symptoms, including deliriousness
> 
> So I've gotta add a little more after this chapter, but luckily I have tomorrow off! So I may be able to get that chapter up by Saturday. Once I get used to my new job, I'll try to commit myself to a specific publishing schedule so I can get more chapters written on time. 
> 
> Wish me luck, retail is tiring and I have very little energy as is! XD


	27. Requiem for a Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreaded news reaches their farmland hideaway. None of them take it well. Byleth is the only one who doesn't know, and they can't tell him.

Aside from the coughing and vomiting, Byleth seemed to be improving a little bit.

The fever hadn’t improved, much to everyone’s dismay, but at least he seemed to be resting a bit easier, the delusions and fever dreams dying down to a few unintelligible murmurs. Meanwhile, Claude was sleeping less and less, keeping himself awake some nights to make sure Byleth was still breathing. He’d watch fearfully, dread gripping his gut like a vice, as if he was just waiting for Byleth’s chest to stop moving. Waiting for the goddamned fever to take him. With every moment of silence that passed, Claude kept thinking that death would claim Byleth any second.

Yet the second passed, and Byleth still lived.

It was easier when Byleth got nightmares every night, his whimpers and cries of fright piercing the silence, alerting Claude to his distress.

Now, the silence was maddening.

It had been a few more days, and Claude was starting to look ragged.

When he nodded off one afternoon, nearly falling right onto the floor, Felix managed to catch him.

“Alright, you,” Felix hissed, “You’re going to bed.”

“Eh?” Claude stood back up, unsteadily, and shoved Felix’s hands off his shoulders. “I’m fine. I’m g-gonna go watch Teach—“

Felix growled in exasperation and grabbed his arm, not willing to take no for an answer. “ _I’ll_ look after him. _You_ are gonna get some sleep. You have barely slept in _days._ ”

“I told you, I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not. Come on.”

Claude grumbled a little under his breath, but seemed too exhausted to protest, instead electing to let Felix pull him upstairs and not too gently shove him onto his bed. He let out an ungraceful little _oof_ when his head hit the pillow, and his eyes shut almost immediately. Felix saw fit to pull off his boots and unceremoniously tug the blankets over his shoulder. He scoffed a little when he saw that Claude had already fallen asleep.

_Idiot._

Just as promised, Felix sat down in the chair beside Byleth’s bed, crossing his arms and his legs. Both Byleth and Claude were resting easy, their faces slack, their chests rising and falling slowly. Byleth’s skin was still sickly and flushed, gleaming with sweat from the fever that refused to let up, but at least he was sleeping.

Even Felix couldn’t deny how nervous he was. He didn’t want to lose Byleth. Just like Claude said some days ago, if he doesn’t make it, everything they did from the mansion to the farm would have been all for _nothing._

And Felix _hated_ it when his actions meant nothing.

A few footsteps sounded on the stairs, and a familiar redhead perked up from the top of the stepladder.

“Hey.” Sylvain glanced over at the two slumbering forms. “How are they doing?”

“Just sleeping,” said Felix, making sure to keep his voice quiet.

“Good…” Sylvain paused for a second. “I was gonna head into the village to see if that physician is back yet and to pick up a few things. You wanna come along?”

Felix considered this. “I told Claude I’d watch over Byleth.”

Just then, they heard Ashe’s voice from below the stairs. “You two can go together. I was just about to start making some soup for our sickly friend.”

Sylvain beamed. “Great! Thanks Ashe, you’re the best! Come on, Fe!”

With a sigh, Felix got up. _Might as well._

It was a lovely afternoon, Felix had to admit, and the short walk to the village from their cozy hideaway was pleasant as ever. Summer was in full swing, making every morning refreshing and every evening golden and warm. Felix would have called it perfect if he was less cautious about getting too comfortable where they were, for with every day that went by with no sign of Byleth’s fever letting up and no sign of Dimitri’s arrival, he knew that the day they’d have to leave their haven and homelands behind forever was inching closer.

“We never get much time alone, do we?” Sylvain pointed out, resting his hand behind his head like he always did. “You always go out hunting so early in the morning.”

Felix scoffed a bit. “I like to keep sharp. You, on the other hand, have made a terrible habit of sleeping in.”

“Hey, can you blame me? We’re just chilling out here. It’s not like we’re in any immediate danger, right?”

“No, but we could be found any day if we’re not careful. You need to keep up with your training if you want to help everyone, including yourself, survive any attack we might encounter.”

Sylvain laughed. “You’re too worried, Fe. Try to relax a little, yeah?”

“And _you’re_ too laid-back.”

“Heh, you got me there.” Sylvain reached over to playfully ruffle Felix’s hair a little, which earned a disgruntled hiss from him, and another laugh from Sylvain.

The two were mostly silent as they headed into the village. Like always, the sleepy little town was quiet and quaint, the marketplace just bustling enough to feel alive but not enough to feel suffocating. Instead of splitting up, the two of them stuck together, picking up some more herbs and some new tea that just came in from a merchant shipment. In fact, the merchant was still unloading some crates from his cart while Felix and Sylvain were nearby.

They couldn’t help but overhear the conversation.

“Really? He left the Shield of Faerghus in charge? I thought Fraldarius had vanished,” said the shopkeep.

The merchant set down another crate. “Oh, you’re thinking of the duke’s younger son! He’s the one who jumped ship after the war. It’s Duke Fraldarius himself who was left the keys to the Holy Kingdom.”

Felix felt a pit of dread take hold in his stomach. If his father was ruling the Kingdom now, then that meant—

“Both found dead in a ravine last week, eh?” the shopkeep said, shaking his head. “How terrible… What an ironic end for a mighty warlord and warrior such as King Dimitri and that enormous knight of his…”

“Aye, but they didn’t find the bodies,” the merchant replied. “Some kind of riding accident in the mountains. From what I heard, all they found was parts of their cloaks and the horses, right by that narrow ravine. There ain’t gonna be any burials. Just some kind of mourning ceremony for the whole Kingdom, arranged by the Church or something.”

Sylvain put his hand on Felix’s shoulder, looking at him helplessly. Both of them had paled in the face, their tongues tied in knots, their stomachs turning over, as they realized just what this had meant.

_Dimitri is dead._

“Fe?” Sylvain whispered, but it was almost a breathless whimper. “What do we do…?”

Felix gulped, steeling himself. He had to take a moment to gather his words. “Let’s just… check on that healer’s office and get back to the house… We’re going to have to tell the others.”

With a shaky nod, Sylvain sighed. “R-right.”

Just as they expected, the physician hadn’t returned to the village yet, which made that dread in their guts hold all the tighter; without a healer’s help, Byleth’s chances of survival were dwindling fast. Knowing they couldn’t do anything else, they almost ran back to the farmhouse up the road, knowing they didn’t have time for any solemnity. Just panic, and that icy, icy dread.

Felix grit his teeth in frustrated anger.

 _It_ was _all for nothing. He’s fucking gone. This was all for nothing._

_Gods fucking damn it._

When they reached the farmhouse, Felix realized that Sylvain’s eyes were shiny with tears, and he was biting down hard on his lip to try to keep from sobbing. But when he leaned his fist on the wood pile by the door and covered his eyes with his hand, he’d already lost the battle, and he released a few silent, breathless sobs. Felix didn’t know what to do for him. There were no comforting words to say. He felt just as awful; he was just better at holding it back.

When he stepped into the main room of the house, it seemed like just another ordinary evening. Balthus was doing some kind of whittling by the fireplace, Yuri was carefully tending to his nails, and Ashe was still cooking some soup while also making some tea. He was just pouring the tea into a cup when he looked up at Felix, an innocent little smile on his face that made Felix want to _scream_ upon knowing how much this was about to hurt.

“Hey, Felix, where’s—“ Ashe’s smile vanished. “…Felix, are you okay?”

Felix swallowed hard. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking.

_Just get it out._

“Dimitri is dead.”

Balthus swore as he cut himself on his carving knife. Ashe dropped the teacup in his hands, and it shattered on the wooden floor. Yuri straightened up, his usually relaxed face stiff with horrified shock.

“W- _what?_ ” Ashe gasped. “That- that can’t be!”

“It’s true. He’s gone. Dedue, too. We heard it in the village. An accident while riding in the mountains. They’re both dead.” Damn it, he was starting to feel a knot in his throat, too. “He’s not coming. Ever.”

They heard a _thump_ just outside the door, and Felix knew it was Sylvain’s fist hitting the wall, frustrated and angry and lost. Sylvain let out a strangled, muffled sob.

Ashe covered his mouth with both hands, tears instantly welling up in his eyes. “No…”

“Shit…” Balthus breathed, right after flicking the bits of blood off of his cut finger. “If he’s gone, then… Who’s gonna cover our tracks?”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Nobody. It’s even _more_ unsafe for us to stay here now. We have to—“

“Leave?” interrupted Yuri. He stood up, meeting Felix’s uneasy gaze with his own. “Now you listen here, Byleth is in _no_ condition to travel. He is barely alive as is. If we’re getting out of here, we have to wait until his health improves.”

“We’re not going to have _time_ , you idiot!” Felix shouted, unable to keep his voice down. “Once they figure out what Dimitri did, they are going to come for us, and they will _kill us._ Are you prepared to die, Mockingbird?”

Balthus stood up, eyes fiery. “None of us are! We’ve come this far living in hiding, haven’t we? We can make it a little longer while our pal recovers, can’t we?”

Growing angrier by the minute, Felix took the small bag of tea leaves in his hand and threw it to the floor as hard as he could. “No! Don’t you fools understand?! Dimitri is fucking _dead!_ _We are running out of time!_ ”

“ _Shut up, all of you!!_ ” Ashe suddenly snapped, though his voice broke halfway through.

Everyone stopped and stared at him. A few tears slipped out of Ashe’s eyes, dripping off his chin. He glanced up at the stairs, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet but strained. “Y-you’re going to wake them up.”

But it was too late. Claude slowly made his way down the steps. When he raised his head to look at them all, his eyes were heavy with an uncharacteristic grimness. They all knew he heard them. For a few long moments, none of them dared move, like one flinch could set off the beast that lay within. There was a deep _rage_ in Claude’s eyes, waiting to claw its way out at the slightest of provocations. It was a much more terrifying sight than they could have imagined.

Claude shut his eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. “Where did we put my bow?” he asked, his voice low and quiet.

Yuri pointed to the little place behind the pantry door where they kept a few of their weapons. Without another moment, Claude snatched up his bow and his quiver of arrows, pushed the back door open, and stepped outside. The others all stared.

“Um…” Ashe said after a few moments, trying to wipe his tears away even though more were on the way, “I- I’m gonna go check on Byleth…”

Balthus shook his head, heading over to Ashe and planting a hand on his shoulder. “Nuh-uh. I can do that. Sit down and catch your breath, okay, squirt?”

Ashe bit back a sob and managed a nod.

Still stunned with shock and anger, Felix’s hands wouldn’t stop trembling as he looked up at Balthus. “…Don’t tell him,” he said, his voice gone icy again. “Don’t tell Byleth what happened.”

Balthus nodded. “You got it.”

It was Yuri who ended up heading outside, to the small yard out back. There he found Claude, using up all of his arrows on his bow, shooting them into a single tree trunk up ahead, one arrow after another, not even giving himself time to breathe. He was shooting them as frantically as if he was an animal cornered by beasts and trying one last chance of a fight, or like a man who just lost a friend and didn’t know how else to let his suffocating feelings out. When Yuri took a few steps to the side to get a bit of a better look, he could see that Claude’s cheeks were shiny and wet with tears.

None of them had ever seen Claude like this, so unhinged and ragged, tearing apart at the seams. It was a heartbreaking sight.

Yuri let him do what he needed to, and stayed silent.

When Claude ran out of arrows save for one, he tossed his bow aside, followed by his quiver. Holding the arrow’s shaft tight in his fist, he let loose an enraged _scream_ , falling to one knee as he stabbed the arrow into the ground with all his might.

His face drenched in sweat and tears, Claude let out a few heaving breaths.

Yuri carefully stepped forward.

“I can’t believe it,” Claude whispered. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

Yuri took in a breath. “Byleth is still here with us,” he said softly. “He’s still alive.”

Claude lifted his head. “W-we can’t tell him. We can’t let him know. If he knows Dimitri is dead, he’s not going to survive. The news… very may well kill him.”

Unable to hold back, Yuri dropped down to his knees and pulled Claude into his arms. “We’ll keep that secret as long as we need to. He just has to get through this.”

Claude, too exhausted to hold his friend back, just rested his face against Yuri’s shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh, but it sounded more like a muffled sob. “I hope so…”

“Hope is all we have,” Yuri admitted. “Let’s pray it’s enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter; nothing too bad, just some pretty raw reactions to news of a death.
> 
> once again I'm sorry I made Claude cry ;;n;; I'm also sorry that I made Ashe and Sylvain cry...
> 
> I know it's not Saturday, but I was just too excited! Chapter 28 goes up tomorrow!!


	28. Amen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene, only then I am human.

The fever wasn’t letting up.

But, Byleth’s cough had gone away, which was definitely a good sign, and he’d finally been able to keep some food down, which was even _more_ of a good sign. Next to Claude, of course, Ashe was the most worried, his brotherly nature letting him tend to Byleth with a certain sort of gentle confidence, reassuring Byleth through his feverish delusions and praising him when he didn’t throw up what he’d just managed to eat. He even lied to Byleth at one point, telling him that he looked a lot better, that Dimitri was going to be here soon. Strangely, the positive reassurances seemed to have a good effect on him. But Ashe was just as worried as the rest of them; at this point, all they could do was hope that he would survive.

They were already starting to make plans to leave. Knowing their haven was no longer safe, everyone was already preparing to say goodbye to the home they’d only just gotten used to. No matter what happened, they knew they couldn’t stay. None of them dared think of the possibility of Byleth not surviving… but even if they did lose him, all of them were aware on some level that it still meant they had to run. They were fugitives of the Church. Whether the baron’s stolen slave was found with them or not, they were still criminals in the eyes of the Church. Sooner or later, Rhea would find out it was the six of them who were behind it.

Hearing of Dimitri’s death had been hard enough. But none of them had the strength to bury another friend.

Now, Byleth slept. It was a stormy day, but there was no rain. Yet.

After having some soup and tea, Byleth drifted off to sleep, lulled by one of the cats purring at the foot of the bed. The others left him to rest, careful not to make too much noise. Balthus and Sylvain were cutting up some more firewood outside, by the light of a lantern, while Yuri was starting to make some dinner. The rest of them -Felix, Claude, and Ashe- sat quietly around the main room of the house, trying not to think about how nervous they were.

They didn’t talk about Byleth.

Or Dimitri.

None of them could bear to.

It was shaping up to be a quiet evening thus far… until they didn’t hear the axe splitting the wood outside anymore. The two outside seemed frozen.

Then, Sylvain scrambled back inside. Everyone looked up, startled.

“Someone’s coming,” he gasped, almost breathless. “On a horse. Up the road.”

Felix immediately stood up, reaching for his sword and strapping it to his belt. “What do they look like? I need details, Sylvain.”

“It’s dark… I c-can’t really tell. But he’s _big._ ”

Claude and the others got up, too, rushing for their own weapons. “How many are there? Just the one guy?”

“I don’t know…” Sylvain admitted. He shook his head.

“There could be more of them hiding in the woods. It might be a trap,” warned Felix. “Be on your guard, guys. We need to be ready to defend our home.”

Right away, as most of the men marched outside with their weapons drawn, Ashe stayed inside, though he had his trusty bow and quiver in his hands. Claude turned to look at him.

“I’m gonna stay upstairs with Byleth,” he said to Claude, a little determination in his voice, though he was hiding his fear. “I’ll protect him.”

Claude nodded. “Okay. Be ready for anything.”

The wind howled just outside the house, the storm clouds above seeming darker than ever. Claude put an arrow to his bow, Felix drew his sword, Yuri readied a spell, Sylvain held onto his lance, and Balthus slipped on a pair of spiked gauntlets. With the five of them at the ready, they watched as the mounted figure very slowly approached on the road from the woods to the north. Thunder rumbled ahead, and all of them could sense those minutes just before it would begin to rain. That wet, dark heaviness.

This could be it. The moment they had to defend everything they’d struggled for this whole time.

They observed the figure. It appeared they were alone, and exhausted, both horse and rider alike. The figure was dressed in black, a heavy cloak with a hood drawn over them, concealing their face in shadow. But they looked absolutely ragged.

“Who are you?!” Felix snapped, from the front of the group, holding up his sword threateningly. “State your business!”

The horse stopped just in front of the fence. For a long few moments, no one moved. When the wind blew again, the mysterious figure was tilted to the side, as if they were so weak that one more gust could push them right off the saddle.

They lifted their head. Felix took in a breath with a start, seeing the outline of an eyepatch beneath the hood.

“Felix…” the figure murmured.

Sylvain dropped his lance. It fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Before anyone could stop him, he rushed to the horse’s side, catching the cloaked figure just in time when he tilted to the side and fell right off the horse. Sylvain looked ready to burst into tears, cradling the hulking stranger, even as the off-balance weight made him stagger to the ground. The figure, clearly unarmed, reached up and held Sylvain back, just as Sylvain was starting to murmur soft little reassurances.

Felix stepped to the side to get a better look at the figure. He gasped.

“It’s _Dimitri!_ ”

Everyone froze.

“What the _fuck_ — are you sure?” said Yuri, letting his spell fade away so he could start to step forwards.

“I’d know him anywhere…” Sylvain replied. “It’s him. _He’s alive!_ ”

He and Felix worked together to pull the figure up, and together they pulled back the hood to reveal him. Sure enough, there was that familiar mop of blonde hair and a weary face, only now, he looked absolutely awful; so much worse than he did during the war. As Claude put away his arrow and carefully approached, trying to keep himself steady, he realized that Dimitri looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. Like he had been traveling nonstop. His clothes were ragged and dirty, and he was covered in some cuts and scrapes. He looked at them all with an exhausted smile, muttering their names.

Claude managed a smile as he laid a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, already so used to faking a smile. “Where have you been, my friend? Teach has been so worried about you that he—“

“ _Byleth_ ,” Dimitri breathed out. “Where is he? I have to— I have to see him.”

“Well hold on, you gotta pull yourself together first,” Yuri pointed out. “Do you realize how awful you look right now? I mean, we heard you and Dedue were _dead,_ so…”

Dimitri shook his head. “I’m fine. Please, Claude, take me to him.”

“Alright, we can do that,” Claude said quietly. “Just… try not to be too worried.”

“Why?” Dimitri instantly looked nervous, and he looked to the house, already starting to walk towards the front door. “What’s— what’s wrong with him?”

The others were right behind him and trying to explain what was going on, but Dimitri didn’t quite register their words. His footsteps were heavy as he entered the house, leaning his weight on the door frame, the chair, the beam in the middle. He let out a shaky breath before calling out into the house.

“Byleth?”

Upstairs, Byleth’s eyes opened.

Ashe sat up with a start when he saw Byleth wake up that quickly, but he too turned his face towards the staircase. He heard that voice, too.

“Is that…?”

“Dimitri,” Byleth murmured. He sloppily shoved back the covers and swung his legs out of the bed so he could stand up. “He’s- h-he’s here.”

“Whoa, wait!” Ashe cried, dropping his bow so he could rush to Byleth’s side and grab his arm. “You’re still sick, you need to rest!”

They could hear the others talking to Dimitri downstairs. Byleth stopped for just a moment to listen.

“Where’s Byleth? Why do you all look so worried? Is he alright?”

“He’ll be fine, it’s just that—“

“Look, pal, he’s just having a hard time right now. Sit down, have some grub, and then we can—“

“No, please, I have to see him!”

Byleth managed to wrench his arm free from Ashe’s hand. Before Ashe could stop him, he’d already stumbled his way to the stepladder and weakly tried to make his way downstairs. His desperation had given him more strength than he’d had in days. Ashe tried to follow after him, to try to stop him from going any further. He had already reached the bottom of the stairs.

And he stood stunned and frozen in place.

All of them did. No one dared move, for fear of breaking the spell of this perfect moment. There stood Dimitri, framed by the stormy gray light misting in from the doorway, a shadow of a king, looking so worn and heavy that he almost resembled a ghost, but still that familiar silhouette of a warrior, the same wide-eyed face of a desperate lover. And that sad blue eye instantly welled up with tears, a disbelieving smile breaking across his face as he looked upon the man he’d been so frantic to see for the last two months.

Dimitri took one step forward and opened his arms. “ _Byleth!_ ”

A few tears were already freely slipping out of Byleth’s eyes as he stared for a few moments. He tried to say Dimitri’s name, but what came out was a choked sob. Then another.

Finally letting go of the stepladder, Byleth stumbled forward, and collapsed, right into Dimitri’s arms. Both of them were on their knees now, _clinging_ to each other, Dimitri’s larger form almost making him look as if he was trying to envelop Byleth into his silhouette, shielding him from everything else. He gasped out a sob of his own, his arms holding Byleth a little tighter.

“I’m here, my beloved, I’m here…” he whispered, breathless. “I’ll never leave your side again, I swear it.” He shut his eye tight and nuzzled his cheek on the top of Byleth’s head, trying not to sob but quickly losing the battle. “I’m so sorry…”

Byleth couldn’t say anything. His face buried in Dimitri’s chest, his hands holding onto him so tightly they were shaking, he was sobbing so hard almost no sound was coming out. All they could hear was his breath hitching every few seconds, a desperate attempt to breathe while he drowned in a river of relief and devastatingly craved love. This was a dam that had been ready to break open for months, and now it’s crashed wide open, and the whole room was soaked through with it.

For the first time since even before the day he lost his freedom, he was finally _crying._

Dimitri whispered a few more little reassurances to him before he scooped his arms under Byleth’s legs and shoulders, plucking him from the floor like he weighed nothing, and carrying him to the modest little sofa in front of the fireplace. It wasn’t as soft as the one they had in the castle, but the fire gently crackled in front of them, and there they were, lost in each other’s arms, and it was enough. Dimitri held him close, the silhouette of his ragged cloak almost engulfing them both, stroking his hair and kissing his face. He seemed entirely unaware of how exhausted he was from seemingly nonstop travel, unaware of how sick Byleth was.

But Byleth couldn’t stop crying.

After a minute, Ashe finally broke the spell, stepping forwards to try to get Dimitri’s attention. To his surprise, it was Felix who stopped him. He’d grabbed Ashe’s shoulder, and Ashe looked back at him in confusion.

“Uh…” Ashe said quietly, “S-shouldn’t we tell him that Byleth needs to rest…?”

Felix had an uncharacteristically soft look on his face. “Give them a minute or two.”

Two minutes turned into ten. Ten turned into thirty. They started to disperse from the room, first Balthus, then Felix. The rain still hadn’t started, so Balthus elected to fetch some more firewood, with Felix shuffling after him a few minutes later. Yuri tried to make something for dinner, but quickly got distracted and gave up early. Sylvain, Claude, and Ashe lingered close by, waiting for the couple in front of the fireplace to remember they were there. It was a little awkward, but they understood the space they needed. The king and his beloved were going through a lot right now, and the last thing they needed was to be overwhelmed more.

Tears still slipped down Byleth’s cheeks, staining his shirt, his face, Dimitri’s armor. He still sobbed, silently and desperately. And Dimitri, his heart aching but unfazed, kept holding Byleth tight.

Thirty minutes turned into sixty… and Byleth seemed to be about done crying.

Now he rested against Dimitri’s chest and shoulder, exhausted and barely conscious, looking like he’d cried himself into a headache. This time, when Ashe got up to approach them, no one had the heart to stop him. First, he fetched a cup of water. Then, he carefully knelt in front of the two of them.

Dimitri looked up. “Ashe?” he murmured.

Ashe gave him a little smile, but didn’t waste a moment in turning his attention to the limp, weak form in the king’s arms. “Hey, Byleth, you should drink some water. You’re dehydrated enough as is…”

Blearily opening his eyes, puffy and red from all the tears they shed, Byleth turned his head only slightly to Ashe. He was able to lift his head a bit as Ashe helped him drink the water, but he didn’t have much more strength than that. When Ashe pulled the cup away, Byleth sighed and leaned his head against Dimitri’s shoulder again. But there was that heavy concern in Dimitri’s eyes again.

“Dimitri, we have to get him upstairs,” Ashe said quietly. “He’s sick. He needs rest.”

A pang of worry. Dimitri gasped a little. “He’s fallen ill? W-what happened?”

Claude couldn’t hold back a small chuckle as he stood up. “Well, he got so worried about you that he caught himself a fever. He’ll be fine if he gets enough sleep and enough water.”

What with the way he felt, it seemed Dimitri had no choice but to believe him. So, with a few reassuring words, Dimitri picked him up again and slowly made for the stairs. Ashe led the way, with Claude right at the rear. The bed was right as they left it, scruffy and unmade and having the very aura of sickness, but Dimitri laid his beloved in it like it was the most delicate bed of flowers and moss, like Byleth was the most precious treasure to ever walk the earth.

Dimitri’s hands did stray away far enough from Byleth’s head so that Claude could put another cool, damp cloth over Byleth’s forehead. And yet, when Ashe put his hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, Dimitri looked as if he was about to cry, unable to wrench his gaze away from Byleth.

“I can’t leave him…”

Claude tucked the covers up to Byleth’s chest. “He’ll be alright, Dima. Ashe is taking care of him. But you need to take care of yourself, too.”

“But… he looks so small and helpless. I have to watch over him.”

“And you can,” Claude quietly insisted, as Ashe took his place in the chair beside Byleth’s bed. “But first of all, we should take care of you. You’ll be all cleaned up by the time he wakes up. Okay?”

Dimitri didn’t resist when Claude took his arm and gently pulled him up. He seemed too tired to retaliate violently, too dizzy with relieved love that it was all he thought about. But, before they started back down the stairs, Dimitri shot one little desperate look to Ashe.

“Don’t let anything happen to him,” he said.

Ashe managed a smile. “You can trust me, your majesty.”

Evening had come, and darkness had nearly fallen. With the rain gently pattering outside, everybody had congregated in the main room of the house. They all looked up in surprise when Dimitri and Claude arrived downstairs, but it was clear to see what their intentions were. They just had to get Dimitri a change of clothes, a nice bath, and something to eat. Yuri got a bath set up for him right away, while Felix and Sylvain struck up a noble attempt at trying to cook together. Balthus managed to find some spare clothes of his (and a shirt, miraculously) that looked like they’d fit Dimitri well enough. And all the while, Claude stayed right by Dimitri’s side, reassuring him every few minutes that Byleth was going to be fine.

It was like Dimitri was a spooked animal, having to be coaxed into doing the simplest of acts to care for himself despite all his fear and uncertainty. It broke their hearts to see him like this, and no one seemed to quite know what to do about it.

But, after having a bath and changing into the clean clothes provided to him, he did seem a little better. Only a little.

But progress was progress.

Sylvain looked over at Dimitri, who’d sat down meekly and a bit awkwardly at the kitchen table. The stew he and Felix had managed to make was almost finished, leaving Sylvain just about ready to spoon some of it up into bowls for the guys. At the moment, it was just him and Dimitri in the room.

He had to take a breath before he asked the wayward king anything. “…I guess it’s still too soon to ask the whole story?”

Dimitri said nothing, his eyes cold and sad and otherwise unreadable.

“Right… It’s… probably not great,” said Sylvain. “But hey, when you’re ready to tell us, feel free. Anytime, really. We’re all your friends here.”

This time, Dimitri only nodded a little, shutting his eyes for a moment.

Sylvain smiled, reaching over to pat his shoulder, just happy to see he was alive.

They could only convince Dimitri to take a few spoonfuls of the pheasant stew before he couldn’t take the waiting anymore. He got up and walked to the stairs, not hesitating to make his way back up. Gravitated to his lover’s side, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and everyone else knew it, nor would they dare try to keep the two of them separated. For everything they’d been through, none of them could be so cruel as to keep them apart even a few hours longer. So when he went back up to the loft again, no one said a word.

Night arrived shortly after the storm did. Exhausted from all the adrenaline from the day, everybody was ready to get some much-needed shuteye. Claude tried to convince Dimitri to get some rest too, but he refused. Instead Dimitri elected to stay in the chair at Byleth’s bedside, holding onto his hand, replacing the damp cloth on his forehead, and quietly reassuring him through his fever dreams. He was watching over him like a guard dog, frail and afraid and heavy with heartache. Who wouldn’t feel like that when they found their lover sick and terrified after two months of being apart?

“Just try to sleep at least sometime, okay?” Claude insisted. “When was the last time you got some real sleep?”

Dimitri glanced up at him for a moment, parted his lips, then shut them again. He didn’t have an answer. That disheartened Claude; getting little sleep doesn’t do very good things to one’s body; he knew that well. But Dimitri wasn’t going to hear it.

“Okay,” said Claude with a heavy sigh, “You can stay up watching over him tonight, but tomorrow night you’re gonna really sleep. Deal?”

The wayward king bowed his head. “Alright…”

That satisfied Claude enough. “Okay, good.”

The loft was very quiet that night, aside from the rain gently hitting the rooftop and the occasional little whimpers and whispers coming from the two broken lovers in the corner. Despite everything, the others slept quite soundly. Sylvain even snored just a little bit, a sign that he was deeply asleep.

Halfway through the night, Byleth’s feverish whimpers returned.

And in the span of a few moments, his whimpers turned to screams.

Ashe and Sylvain both let out a surprised shout. On raw instinct, Felix bolted up and drew his sword. Claude grabbed his dagger from under his pillow. Yuri did the same. Balthus lifted his head, his eyes half open from sleep. Once it was clear there was no immediate danger, they all warily turned their heads towards where the scream came from.

And there was Dimitri, having gathered Byleth up in his arms.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Byleth.”

“D-Dimitri?” He opened his eyes, just a little bit. His face flooded with relief, he reached up and held tight to Dimitri’s shirt, burying his face in Dimitri’s shoulder. “Oh gods… I-it was so real… You were dead. T-the knights, they— they burned the house to the ground. They killed all of you— they put those horrible bronze chains back on me— and they were going to take me back-!” He couldn’t say any more. His breath hitched, and he let out a sob.

Dimitri ran his hand along the back of Byleth’s head. “Hush, my beloved… It was only a dream. We’re safe here.”

Unable to calm down right away, Byleth let out a few more breathless sobs. The terror was too much, like a heavy weight pulling down on him from all sides. Dimitri laid a gentle kiss on the side of Byleth’s head, stroking his back, his hair, even slowly rocking back and forth a little bit to ease him. After a few minutes, it seemed to work, and he was breathing easy again. Everybody let out a collective sigh and returned their weapons to their usual places. Balthus laid his head back down and immediately fell back asleep.

“I’ll go make you some tea, By,” said Yuri, getting up and already making his way to the stepladder. “It’ll help.”

It was Claude’s turn to get up, sitting on the other side of Byleth’s bed so he could tentatively reach over and lay his hand across Byleth’s forehead. Despite how dreary and exhausted Byleth looked, Claude smiled. He didn’t have to fake it this time.

“How about that. Your fever broke.” He looked up at Dimitri, eyes bright and hopeful. “He’s gonna recover just fine.”

Dimitri returned the smile, letting out a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness…”

“You know,” Sylvain remarked through a yawn, “If you guys are scared about getting found, maybe we could do some patrols. We can take turns. Not like we’re doing much else out here.”

Felix let out a little hum of affirmation as he laid back down. “If it’ll help us all feel a little safer, I don’t see why not.”

“That’s… that’s a wonderful idea,” Dimitri murmured. He looked down at the man resting in his arms. “What do you think, beloved?”

Byleth nodded. “I like it, too.”

After Byleth had some of the calming lavender tea that Yuri made for him, he already seemed much better, like he could rest deeply for the first time in a while. And slowly but surely, the night grew eased again. The rain had not stopped, but was tranquil in its gentle patter, lulling everyone back to sleep. As Dimitri helped Byleth lay back down and tucked him in, Byleth reached over and grasped Dimitri’s arm.

“Wait…” he whispered. “You should sleep, too.”

Dimitri smiled at him, a bit sadly. “I’ll be alright, my beloved. Rest now. I’ll watch over you.”

Byleth was about to protest, but found nothing to say. He was too exhausted to deny him, to reject his protection. He shut his eyes, and within moments, he was asleep.

As the others slowly drifted off, some of them watched the sight from their beds. They couldn’t help but notice how peaceful Dimitri looked, gently holding onto his lover’s hand and running his hand along Byleth’s hair as he slept. Not looking like a warrior or a king or even someone out for vengeance, Dimitri just looked so… in love. Like he’d missed Byleth so much that it was breaking his heart just to not be able to hear his voice.Like he was worshipping every part of him, down to the last night terror of something he couldn’t go back and change. Down to the last onslaught of tears that just couldn’t stop. Down to the last regret, the last cry of despair, the last scar.

It was almost a sacred sight, full of such gentleness and devotion.

And as the six other men eventually returned to their own dreams, one by one, the loft of the farmhouse somehow felt a little more like a hallowed sanctuary.

More than the cathedral ever could be.

_No masters or kings when the ritual begins_

_There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin_

_In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene_

_Only then I am human_

_Only then I am clean._

_Amen._

_\- Hozier, Take Me To Church_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW for this chapter! Just some good angst and relief. Enjoy!
> 
> I have a series of long shifts in the next few days, so another chapter probably won't go up until later next week. I appreciate the patience and support! Please do continue to leave your lovely comments and kudos, and be sure to share this fic with your fellow angst enthusiasts! Cheers!


	29. Mitya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romance and forgiveness are in full bloom, just past the peak of summer at a farmhouse hideout.

After that first night, things got a lot easier. For the most part.

Byleth had fully recovered from his fever only a day after it broke, and while he was still a bit weakened and fragile, he was definitely well on the mend, his mind was clear, his skin was back to its normal hue and not that sickly flush, and he was even strong enough to walk around. To everyone else, he still looked a little rough, like he still had to take it easy.

But to Dimitri, he’d never looked lovelier.

Dimitri himself, on the other hand, was a strange presence to adjust to.

He’d changed since the last time his old friends saw him. He jumped at the slightest of noises, and slid about like an injured, prowling wolf, hiding silently in the darkness, or even awkwardly trying to fit himself in among the group. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, but that gut-gripping anxiety still held tight to his nerves, and hadn’t yet had the sense to let him free. He was hesitant, quiet, and most times even gentle, especially when it came to Byleth. He hadn’t necessarily changed for the worse, but, no one quite knew how to react to it other than give him the space he needed.

After a couple of days, Felix returned home one evening from that night’s patrol to look upon Dimitri quite coldly.

Dimitri looked up from where he and Byleth had been sitting on the sofa together. He stared at him, as if to ask what he would be accused of this time, while simultaneously dreading whatever it is he had to say.

“Time to fess up, boar,” Felix said. “Tell us what happened when you left Faerghus.”

That had the others’ attention. Everyone in the room looked up from whatever they were doing and looked to Felix, then to Dimitri. Tensing slightly, Dimitri looked back at the fireplace and let out a sigh. It was true that he’d barely spoken of that whole mess ever since he arrived at the farmhouse, sometimes avoiding questions in order to not have to talk about the entire thing, or just choosing to not speak altogether. Even Byleth didn’t seem to know. But to show him that it didn’t matter what he did so long as they still moved forward to the future, Byleth gave Dimitri’s hand a reassuring little squeeze.

Dimitri smiled at him for a moment, then took in a breath.

“…Dedue helped me fake my death,” he finally said. “Both our deaths. So that no one would suspect when we disappeared. So that _she_ wouldn’t suspect.”

Even at the idea of the Archbishop, Byleth shuddered.

Dimitri went on, his arm holding onto Byleth’s shoulders a little bit tighter now. “Faerghus has been left in the hands of Rodrigue. I trust that he will do whatever is necessary to ensure the kingdom’s peace and prosperity.”

“Well, then,” Felix said, rolling his eyes a little, “Good for dear old dad.”

Balthus stood up, his eyebrow raised. “So, let me get this straight… You left behind the whole kingdom, your duty as king, and all that wealth and power…” His face softened a little. “…Just to be with the man you love?”

Smiling a little, Dimitri nodded.

Yuri grinned, his cunning eyes sparkling. “Never took you for such a romantic sap, King Blaiddyd. But it’s a good look on you.”

When Byleth smiled at that and leaned up to lay a gentle kiss on Dimitri’s cheek, Dimitri blushed.

“What about Dedue?” Ashe pointed out. “Is he going to be here, too?”

Dimitri nodded again. “He will. He’s helping Rodrigue to… cover our tracks, more or less. Then he’ll make his way here to be with us.”

The following day, Byleth decided he was just about strong enough to go for a longer walk, so he had an idea; he wanted to show Dimitri the idyllic little village down the road from their little farmland home. Seeing as how they’d likely be there for quite a while yet, he figured Dimitri should get to know this place, and Dimitri didn’t disagree. However, he still seemed a little nervous.

“Any of them could recognize me…” he said, running his hand over his hair worriedly.

With a gentle hand, Byleth reached up and lightly drew a few stray blond strands away from Dimitri’s face. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. None of us have been recognized so far. Not even Claude.”

Already instantly comforted, Dimitri took Byleth’s hand in his own and squeezed it a little. “I know… but my face became well-known during the war… They will know me as the one-eyed demon, or the wayward king… or perhaps the ghost of him.” He sighed a bit, hanging his head and shutting his eye again. “…I certainly feel like one… especially now that my kingdom thinks I’m dead.”

For a long few lingering moments, Byleth wasn’t sure what to say to that. He was silent for a bit, holding onto Dimitri’s hand and gathering his words. “It’ll be alright, I promise,” he murmured. “Let’s not think about all that. We can just look to the future now.”

Dimitri nodded a little.

Their afternoon spent in the village was far more pleasant than Dimitri expected. Slowly but surely, he was on edge less and less, eased by the presence of his beloved, and the cheerful greetings of the villagers. Dressed in common clothes and his hair pulled back, Dimitri did not exactly look like a king, and for that, he was grateful. No one was the wiser. All they got were a few curious looks and a few hellos.

But in the back of Byleth’s mind, something was clawing its way up, making him a bit uneasy. It took him hours before he realized it was _guilt._

What could happen to the Kingdom now that Dimitri is gone? Rodrigue did seem like a trustworthy figure, based on how Dimitri described him, but it was hard to tell what the future would be like from now on. The Holy Kingdom was without its king, and some would argue that Byleth was to blame. Did Dimitri’s love for him blind him of his duty? His birthright? Byleth didn’t know, and it was impossible to tell what the people would think if they knew the truth. And what about everyone else? They let go of their own noble titles, left their families, left the last of their friends who were still alive after the war. All for two lovers whose union was opposed by seemingly every force save their own.

As they walked through the village, Byleth remembered something Sylvain told him some weeks ago.

_“You didn’t think twice about that decision?”_

_“I didn’t have to. It was either stay a wealthy noble knight my whole life and live knowing I could have helped someone who got_ royally and undeservedly _fucked over by the Church, or take my chances and help them anyway, no matter what might happen.”_

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all to them what the consequences for their treason might be.

The war was over. What’s done was done. Now, it was only a matter of trying to heal, of trying to fix what they could out of everything that went wrong, of trying to save those who are left.

Even if they were the tactician of the enemy.

Byleth found himself smiling a little as he leaned up to kiss Dimitri’s cheek.

Dimitri immediately blushed, his eye sparkling. “What was that for?” he asked softly.

“Just because,” Byleth answered. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

A delighted little grin spread across Dimitri’s face, and he leaned down to kiss Byleth’s forehead. “I’m glad too, my beloved… I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.”

When afternoon was gone and turned into a golden summer evening, the two of them found themselves in the field of wildflowers nearby the house, having tucked themselves beneath an old oak tree in the center of the meadow. Summer had just passed its peak, only just beginning to fade away. For a long while they said nothing; they only leaned against each other with their eyes closed, taking in each other’s presence, and letting a sense of gentle freedom wash over them like the first spring rain. It was more peaceful than they could have imagined, even though they were technically in hiding.

Dimitri opened his eyes as he felt Byleth stand up. “What is it?” When Byleth didn’t answer, Dimitri tilted his head to watch him take a few steps into the meadow, reaching down to grasp some of the wildflowers. “What are you up to?”

Byleth turned his head slightly and smiled. “You’ll see.”

With a smile, Dimitri watched him, taking note of how lovely he looked in the golden light of the setting sun, making his blue hair look almost green, the breeze making a few stray strands drift over his eyes. He was doing something with the flowers, making some kind of circle out of them.

Then, he took his place beside Dimitri on the ground again and placed the circle of flowers on top of Dimitri’s head. Dimitri blinked. Byleth pulled back to survey the sight, a pleased smile on his face.

“There,” he said. “A crown like this suits you best, my king.”

Dimitri blushed. A crown made of flowers, made by his beloved.

“And they call _me_ a romantic sap,” he teased, gently pulling Byleth into his arms and showering his face with kisses.

Byleth laughed, and it was the loveliest sound in the world.

They sat quietly for a little while after that, their hands weaved together as they watched the sunset turn deep orange, then in all shades of purple and pink. A few stars started to appear above them.

“I think I’d like to give you a nickname,” Byleth said softly, his head resting on Dimitri’s shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. But I don’t think ‘my king’ or ‘master’ will do.”

Dimitri shuddered, hating to remember the time when all but the king himself knew Byleth as his slave. When Byleth’s every move reminded Dimitri that Byleth was at his mercy. “Definitely not.”

Byleth thought on this for a few moments. Then, a light came on in his eyes. “Mitya?” he suggested.

A soft smile formed on Dimitri’s face in response. “Mitya,” he repeated. “I like it.” He kissed the top of Byleth’s head, giving his hand a little squeeze. “And… may I keep calling you ‘my beloved?’”

“Of course.”

Just as the sun finally dipped over the horizon, their lips found each other, and time no longer meant anything as they became lost in the presence of one another.

From the back awning of the farmhouse, Claude could see the two of them. He sighed a little, smiling, leaning against the awning post with his arms loosely crossed. Seeing them so happy together… it made him happy, too. He didn’t think this would be so easy; letting his heart be at peace like this. There was no ache, no jealousy, no malice or regret. Maybe he never would be able to love Byleth as he always wanted to, but maybe that was okay.

_Dimitri is good to him. And they really love each other._

_And that’s good enough for me._

Even with Dimitri finally being with them in their hiding place, that alone was not enough to stay Byleth’s haunting nightmares.

Dimitri, barely sleeping as he was, woke first when he heard Byleth’s whimpers of fear and distress. Squeezed together in the same bed, Dimitri scooped Byleth into his arms and held him tight, trying to wake him up by stroking his hand over his hair and murmuring gentle reassurances to him.

Then, Byleth stopped squirming.

“Dimitri?”

“I’m here,” Dimitri quickly answered. “I’m here. You were dreaming.”

Byleth clung tightly to Dimitri’s shirt, letting out a shaky gasp. “It felt so real…” he whispered.

“I know. I know.” Dimitri sighed a bit, adjusting his position so he could more comfortably hold his lover in his arms. “It’s alright, I promise.”

Byleth drew in a breath. “That fucking baron…”

“The baron?” Dimitri pulled back to look at Byleth’s face, reaching up to cup Byleth’s cheek. “Was the dream about… him?”

“Yes… It was the night I was taken from you.” Byleth shut his eyes, and a single tear slipped out. “T-that first night I spent with the baron… That cruel night.”

Dimitri’s heart wrenched. “Oh my love… I’m so sorry.”

“I know… But you have nothing to be sorry for.” Byleth rested his head on Dimitri’s chest, calmed by his heartbeat, the gentle firmness of his muscles beneath his hands. “It’s not your fault. You had no idea they’d take me away…”

Dimitri nodded a little, wrapping his strong arms around the smaller man, trying to make him feel safe and warm and comfortable. “I wish I could go back to Faerghus. If only to destroy that wicked baron for what he did to you. I cannot stand the fact that I had no choice but to leave him alive.”

“No!” Byleth immediately cried, a desperate whisper that made Dimitri’s gut clench. “Please don’t. Don’t go.” He held tighter to Dimitri. “I’ve only just gotten you back.”

The words settled in, and Dimitri released a sigh. “…Alright. Don’t worry, my beloved. I’m not going anywhere.” He paused for a few moments, to let the reassurance take hold in Byleth’s heart, so he could begin to relax again. “Hey… I think I have an idea.”

“Oh?” Byleth lifted his head to look into Dimitri’s eyes. “What is it?”

Dimitri smiled. “Let’s go to the lake. It’s a wonderful summer night.”

Byleth blinked a few times. “You want to go swimming?”

“Oh, I’d thought we could just sit by the shore… But swimming actually does sound wonderful. It would be refreshing, wouldn’t it?”

Byleth glanced away, taking in a breath as if to steady himself. “Well… alright.”

Though summer had just gone past its peak, it was still warm out, the moon a sliver of white hanging in the open skies with all the stars. Dimitri and Byleth walked hand-in-hand from the farmhouse, down the path through the meadow, and all the way to the little wooden dock on the shore of the lake. It looked so still, almost as glass, not even a wind rustling the trees. When they stepped onto the dock, the slight motion of weight upon the wood made a delicate ripple across the water. The reflection of the moon trembled.

Byleth trembled even more in response, staring at the water.

“Are you alright, beloved?” Dimitri asked softly, as he stood at the end of the dock, ready to step in.

“I, uh…” Byleth gulped. “…I have a hard time getting into water these days…”

Silent horror started to creep up into Dimitri’s eyes. “What did the baron to do you…?”

Byleth sighed a little, let go of Dimitri’s hand, and looked away. “He did a lot of horrible things to me. I won’t bother you with all the details. It is a bit much…”

“Please don’t tell me he made you bathe with him.”

Dread rising in his gut, Byleth looked up into Dimitri’s face, almost afraid of what he might see. And on Dimitri’s face was not rage or disgust at the baron’s actions, but just… sadness.

“He did… didn’t he?”

Byleth nodded.

“Oh, goddess… Byleth, forgive me. I shouldn’t have asked you to come to the lake…”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Byleth reassured, stepping back up to Dimitri and holding his face in his hands. “It’ll be better now that I’m with you. Maybe the cold of the water will be comforting for once.”

Dimitri offered him a little smile, reaching up to hold Byleth’s hands. “Alright, my beloved. Just tell me if you need to get out, okay? I won’t hesitate to carry you home and dry you off. Just say the word.”

“Okay.”

Still holding onto Byleth’s hand, Dimitri carefully crouched down at the edge of the dock and began to lower himself in. He didn’t shiver, letting Byleth know that maybe the water wasn’t as cold as he thought. Byleth followed right behind, dipping one leg in first, then the other, slipping into the water up to almost his waist, one hand on the dock and one hand holding onto Dimitri’s.

The cold _was_ a bit comforting. Strangely.

Dimitri whispered little reassurances and sweet nothings as he gently wrapped his arms around Byleth, holding him close to his chest as they stood in the water together. It was still only up to their waists. Byleth pressed his forehead onto Dimitri’s chest, sighing a little as he rested his hands on Dimitri’s shoulders. In response, Dimitri laid a gentle kiss onto the top of Byleth’s head. He was making sure not to touch him anywhere that would frighten Byleth at all. Careful and sensitive, just as always.

“I thought of you every day,” Dimitri murmured. “Even after I discovered that Claude and the others rescued you.”

Byleth sighed again. “I thought of you, too.”

“I couldn’t get you off my mind while I made that harrowing journey down here alone…” Dimitri paused, holding Byleth a little tighter and squeezing his eye shut. “…I can’t tell you how much I regret how I treated you those first few days. How I thought of you as just… just a war prize. How I couldn’t protect you from the archbishop still trying to punish you for standing against her.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Byleth answered, holding onto the fabric of Dimitri’s shirt. “You’re not the one who took away my freedom.”

“But I kept you.”

Dimitri pulled back to look into Byleth’s eyes, sadness still soaking his face through.

“You were my slave, and I didn’t even question the morality of it until I realized how much had been taken from you. I didn’t think to give your freedom back to you… until it was too late.” Dimitri paused to swallow hard, and when he spoke again, his voice was shaking. “…I’m so sorry for not freeing you sooner. Perhaps I could have spared you from the suffering you endured at the hands of that horrible baron.”

Byleth held Dimitri tighter. “Dimitri… it’s not your fault.” He pulled back, just so he could hold Dimitri’s face in his hands again. “You couldn’t have known what Rhea planned on doing with me once she found out you went soft on me.” He hesitated for a moment, taking in a breath. “We can’t turn back the hands of time. This is how we are now.”

Sighing, Dimitri nodded. “Yes, I… I suppose that’s true. I couldn’t have changed what she was going to do… even if I knew. She always had the control. I’d always thought you were mine and mine alone, that you were safe from her wrath as long as you were with me, but I was wrong.” Dimitri swallowed hard, his eyes glossy, and he bowed his head. “You were never mine to begin with,” he whispered. But just as quickly, he raised his head. “…But maybe that’s okay. I love you, Byleth. That doesn’t mean I own you. No one should have to belong to anyone. And I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that.”

Byleth listened close to him, gazing gently into his eyes. When he stroked his thumb along Dimitri’s cheek, Dimitri realized a tear had slipped out of his eye. Then, Byleth smiled— that beautiful, beautiful smile. He leaned in and kissed Dimitri’s lips.

And that was all the forgiveness Dimitri needed.

They ended up shedding their half-soaked shirts at some point, leaving them draped over the edge of the dock. Their skin was cold, but their blood ran warm as Byleth slowly let Dimitri kiss him all over; his shoulders, his jaw, his neck, his hands, his scars. Even the old chafing marks on his wrists and throat from those heavy bronze chains, and the ugly spidery mark on his chest from the archbishop’s knife. Eternal signs of his time as a prisoner of the Church, and as a slave in the Kingdom. But Dimitri didn’t think about that now. His lips drifted over every mark, every old sign of battle, every place where cruel hands left bruises, his gentle kisses leaving better memories in place of fearful ones.

Byleth blushed as he realized it was like Dimitri was _worshipping_ every part of him. Like he was holiness and grace incarnate. Like the goddess herself was still one with him. Like the blood on their hands was washed away by their forgiveness of each other.

Dimitri smiled as he kissed Byleth’s hands again.

“I have no need for a goddess, when all the righteousness I need is right here in my arms…”

They stayed in the lake until the moon set, then returned to the house right before dawn.

_Oh the shame that sent me off from the god that I once loved_

_Was the same that sent me into your arms_

_Oh and pestilence is won when you are lost and I am gone_

_And no hope, no hope will overcome_

_-_ Mumford and Sons, Winter Winds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: very brief mentions of enslavement and sexual abuse.
> 
> Hey, guys! Sorry I've been gone for so long.
> 
> At the end of November, a member of my family passed away, due to a kidney infection gone rogue. I took a week off of work to help my whole family get things arranged and stuff, and my mother might even take an extra week of personal leave. But we're okay. Getting back into a routine will help us adapt to a new sense of normal. It will be weird without my little sister around.
> 
> Anyways, thank you all for the patience and support! Though I've had less motivation to write, I still intend to finish this fic! Everything's all laid out for the rest of the story. I just gotta write it all!


	30. Sinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea figures out some connections.

The Crest stone lay dormant and still.

Deep in the Holy Tomb, set upon a delicate green and white cloth atop the ancient throne, was the stone representing the Crest of Flames; one that few had recently wielded. It didn’t glow in the slightest, not in a steady light or in a pulse not unlike a heartbeat; it was just a sphere, shining a bit in the lights of the tomb. Nothing had happened with it for months.

It stopped pulsing the moment it parted ways from that sinner’s heart.

No… that _thief._

Peace had come to Fódlan once more, at least for the most part, but Rhea was not satisfied. The Crest stone was back in the Church’s possession -back in _her_ possession- but there was no clear answer about what was to be done with it now. Leave it to rest on the throne, and never get another chance to see her mother again? Another experiment, just to lead to another failure of a vessel? And who knows how long it would take to take effect this time? Occupied with far many other things, she simply let the Crest stone be, though knowing she would not want to leave it there forever burned at the back of her mind for all her waking and sleeping moments.

A far more pressing matter was that Byleth Eisner remained missing.

Rhea did admit to herself that she was greatly disappointed to hear he was stolen from the baron she gave him to. She had not, however, admitted to herself that part of her disappointment came from not being able to bask in his misery anymore. Vessel or not, Crest or not, he had still been of use to her, as not only a way to keep Imperialist rebels from making any wrong moves, but to keep the king in line.

Now he was gone. Or, well, both of them were. And that posed multiple problems.

Though her original thought was that someone had gotten jealous of the baron’s pretty pet and stolen him away for themselves, she grew more suspicious as more time passed. The king withdrew from meetings and public appearances, retreating into his castle and often having quiet little conversations with his loyal vassal, as her trusted spies would tell her. No one knew what they spoke of.

Yet now… She was more suspicious than ever. For both King Dimitri and his vassal were dead.

That seemed awfully convenient.

 _Too_ convenient.

Rhea often spent many hours in contemplation in her offices, trying to think of some evidence to prove to herself that her suspicions of the king causing trickery were correct. On a quiet, cloudy afternoon, she could be found just like that, looking out at the skies.

There was a humble knock on the door.

“Enter,” she said.

The door opened, and a familiar figure stepped in. She stood up and met him with a deceivingly soft smile.

“Good afternoon, Seteth,” she said gently, then paused. Her smile faded. “You look troubled. What is it? Is there news of more Imperialists causing trouble?”

Seteth shook his head. There was a deep shadow behind his eyes. “There is something we must speak of that I should have spoken to you about long ago.”

Rhea blinked. “Oh? Well, no better time than now.”

“I waited this long because I did not want to provoke your fury. I know how… unstable you became during the height of the war, and I… I stood back in fear during your actions following the war. And long before it, I might add.”

Rhea sat down at her desk and did not lift her eyes from him, waiting for him to go on. Seteth stiffened a bit and looked away from her.

“I know what you did to that child, Rhea. When he was but a newborn, scarcely having been brought out of his mother’s womb, and you put the Crest stone of the Goddess herself against his heart. And it was working, I’ll admit it; I understood what you were trying to do, though I feared what it would do to the boy. And… the war… when it ended, you…”

“I did what had to be done,” Rhea said, her voice firm. “He had to be punished.”

“But to hand him off as a _prize of war?_ ” Seteth suddenly snapped, looking back up at her. “And when that wasn’t suitable enough, you sent him to belong to someone who was undoubtedly _cruel_ to him?”

Rhea narrowed her eyes. “ _Seteth,_ ” she hissed, “You have never questioned my actions like this. I suggest you stop now.”

“ _No,_ Rhea. You will hear me out.” Seteth took a deep breath, his brow creased in that way it was when he was about to say something he knew was important. “…I do not believe that Byleth Eisner deserved his punishment.”

Rhea’s eyes flared. She stood up quite quickly, making Seteth flinch.

“ _Silence!!_ ” she shouted. “I have never seen such insolence from you!”

Seteth stared at her as if he’d been struck across the face by her hand. Then, his eyes narrowed, and he took a step back.

“And I have never seen such fury from you…” he said quietly. “You’ve never used that tone with me before. Not in all our years.”

He took another step back, taking a deep breath and raising his chin a bit.

“I cannot condone these actions any longer. I’ve waited too long. I am stepping down as your advisor, effective immediately.”

Rhea stared at him, wide-eyed, for several long moments.

“Where will you go?” she asked him, her voice gone threateningly soft.

“I don’t know,” Seteth answered, and there was no lie in his voice. “I truly don’t know where we’re going. But Flayn is coming with me. We’re leaving tonight. Hopefully, we will be able to go far away from Fódlan. Somewhere where we can live normal lives with regular people.”

“Flayn will like that,” Rhea responded.

“Don’t try that,” hissed Seteth bitterly. “Don’t try to get soft with me again. Wherever my daughter and I go, I never want to see you again.”

Rhea did not respond for about a minute. She lowered her head, her hands leaned against her desk.

“Go,” she said, her voice almost a deathly whisper. “Live in peace, Cichol. Give my best to Cethleann.”

Seteth said nothing for a few beats. He only glared bitterly, tears in his eyes, as he took another step backwards, out of the door, turning as he did. He turned his head a bit back towards her, before he went back into the hallway.

“One more thing… I am glad that Byleth is gone.” He swallowed hard. “Wherever he is… I know he is safe from you.”

When he spoke again, his voice was breaking.

“Goodbye, Seiros.”

And then he was gone.

She wanted to run after him. She wanted to punish him just like she punished all the others, for daring to stand against her and her plans, for his indignant and blatant rebellion. But she stood quite still as she watched his silhouette disappear into the hallways of the monastery. Like he said… he and Flayn just wanted to live normally from now on. No Church, no soldiers, no wars. Just living.

What a lovely idea.

Despite her fury, she did wish they’d find peace somewhere.

That night, she threw herself into her investigations.

Weeks had gone by with no signs of the mysterious masked thieves; there were no reports from the borders or the shores. The Empire territory had been all but abandoned, unclaimed and unmanaged, though most of the nobility knew that the remaining citizens of the Empire who still lived in their territories elected to stay and try to find a new sense of normal. Just peacefully living. Thus, there were hardly any representatives of the Kingdom, the Church, or the Alliance anywhere in the Empire save for Enbarr. That made for a problem; if the fugitives slipped past the borders unnoticed, it could be an endless mess to hunt them down.

So in an effort to search more fervently, the Archbishop sent a few letters to the nobles of the Kingdom, to ask for further support to search for the dangerous fugitives and their stolen prize.

Finally, a report from one of the Knights.

“Archbishop, we’ve received replies from the houses of Gautier and Fraldarius,” the knight explained, holding up two letters with the seals of the two corresponding Crests.

Rhea narrowed her eyes a little at the unopened letters. Evidently, King Dimitri had left Faerghus to Rodrigue, the standing leader of House Fraldarius. It had not been long since he ascended as the regent to the Holy Kingdom, but he took the position with grace, determined to honor his king. It was no wonder he had not attended the meetings of the Kingdom nobility as of the last several months, since the war’s end. Much weighed upon his shoulders.

And as his letter detailed… more than she thought.

The heir to House Fraldarius, Felix, had vanished.

Rodrigue’s letter explained that his son had left eastern Faerghus after the war, to become a sword-for-hire of sorts, like a mercenary, except perhaps more dignified. But he had not returned any correspondence to his father, not since a couple short months ago. The duke expressed his regret to not be able to stretch his soldiers further to search for the strange fugitives, and extended his worry at his son’s disappearance.

The letter from Margrave Gautier was oddly similar.

House Gautier’s heir had laid low since the war’s end, but had indeed vanished two months ago, with no signs as to where he may have gone and no signs of a struggle. Despite the rumors of the Imperial loyalists trying to pick off the nobility one by one, the Margrave highly doubted foul play.

Rhea, however, did not doubt that these two disappearances were connected.

In the Margrave’s letter, he also mentioned something that was particularly suspicious.

“ _Have you heard anything from the Alliance’s young leader, Archbishop? Few have heard from him for months. I’ve received rumors on the grapevine that he wanders Fódlan in disguise, avoiding his duties and sneaking into the monastery unnoticed, though he hasn’t been seen for some time. Perhaps he has spoken with you. Now that the war is done and the Alliance is on the verge of breaking apart for good this time, few trust the young Duke. I strongly suggest that you have your Knights keep an eye out for him at Garreg Mach. I would not trust whatever he is up to.”_

“Strange, isn’t it?” the Knight said. “All these nobles disappearing without a trace like that. Even that leader of Abyss and his large shirtless friend haven’t been seen in the underground city for a while.”

Rhea raised her eyebrow. “Them, too? Intriguing…”

“Perhaps it’s some sort of conspiracy, ma’am. To restart the war from the shadows.”

Rhea did not respond this time. With a wave of her hand, the knight bowed to her for a moment, then turned and left her offices. Her brow knit itself tightly above her eyes as she stared down the letters, red strings winding around her thoughts in several twisted lines.

And she crumpled the letters in her fist.

The king’s softness on his slave truly did go too far. Far enough for arranged espionage… and treason.

They were traitors, all of them. Blasphemers. Heretics.

_Sinners._

And they must be eliminated.

That night, she stood before all the available troops and officers of the Knights of Seiros.

“Tighten security on all the borders!” she commanded. “Send more of your soldiers to investigate all the gates of the borders. You know who to look for. The five traitors will be found and destroyed!”

 _And when I find them… that wayward king will be executed before his people. Properly this time. And that_ thief… _I will make him watch._

_He will be given a much worse fate than before._

_There will be no chance to beg for forgiveness._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers! I'm sorry I've been gone for so long!
> 
> I've been busy with a lot of things, and I've been dead tired. But here is another chapter, messy and short as it may be! Thank you for your continued patience and support, and happy new year!
> 
> With any luck, this fic will be finished before springtime! Let's do this!


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